Who sentest valiant Joshua to the field,
Thy people's champion, to the conqu’ring field,
Where the revolving planet of the night,
Suspended in her radiant round, was stay'd,
And the bright sun, arrested in his course,
Stupendously stood still!
What ailed thee, that thou stood'st still,
O Sun! nor did thy flaming orb decline!
And thou, O Moon! in Ajalon's low vale,
Why didst thou long before thy period shine?
Was it at Joshua's dread command,
The leader of the Israelitish band?
Yes- at a mortal bidding both stood still;
'Twas Joshua's word, but 'twas Jehovah's will.
What all-controlling hand had force
To stop eternal Nature's constant course?
The wand'ring moon to one fix'd spot confine,
But His whose fiat gave them first to shine?
Dan. O Thou! who, when thy discontented host, Tir'd of Jehovah's rule, desir'd a king,
In anger gav'st them Saul; and then again
Didst wrest the regal sceptre from his hand
To give it David — David best belov'd!
Illustrious David! poet, prophet, king;
Thou who didst suffer Solomon the wise
To build a glorious temple to thy name,—
Oh, hear thy servants, and forgive us too!
If by severe necessity compell'd,
We worship here — we have no temple now:
Altar or sanctuary, none is left.
O JUDAH! let thy captive sons deplore
Thy far fam'd temple's now no more!
Fall'n is thy sacred fane, thy glory gone!
Fall'n is thy temple, Solomon!
Ne'er did Barbaric kings behold,
With all their shining gems, their burnish'd gold,
A fane so perfect, bright, and fair;
For God himself was wont t' inhabit there.
Between the cherubim his glory stood,
While the high-priest alone the dazzling splendour view'd.
How fondly did the Tyrian artist strive
His name to latest times should live!
Such wealth the stranger wonder'd to behold:
Gold were the tablets, and the vases gold.
Of cedar such an ample store,
Exhausted Lebanon could yield no more.
Bending before the Ruler of the sky,
Well might the royal founder cry,
Fill'd with a holy dread, a rev'rend fear,
Will God in very deed inhabit here?
The heav'n of heav'ns beneath his feet,
Is for the bright inhabitant unmeet:
Archangels prostrate wait his high commands,
And will he deign to dwell in temples made with hands?
Dan. Yes, Thou art ever present, Pow'r Supreme! Not circumscrib'd by time, nor fix'd to space, Confin'd to altars, nor to temples bound.
In wealth, in want, in freedom, or in chains,
In dungeons, or on thrones, the faithful find thee!
E'en in the burning cauldron thou wast near
To Shadrach and the holy brotherhood:
The unhurt martyrs bless'd thee in the flames;
They sought and found Thee; call'd, and Thou wast there.
1st Jew. How chang'd our state! Judah, thy glory's
Thy joys for hard captivity exchang'd;
And thy sad sons breathe the polluted air
Of Babylon, where deities obscene
Insult the living God; and to his servants,
The priests of wretched idols made with hands
Show contumelious scorn.
2d Jew. If I forget thee, O Jerusalem!
If I not fondly cherish thy lov'd image,
E'en in the giddy hour of thoughtless mirth :
If I not rather view thy prostrate walls
Than haughty Babylon's imperial tow'rs, —
Then may my tongue refuse to frame the strains
Of sweetest harmony; my rude right hand
Forget, with sounds symphonious, to accord
The harp of Jesse's son to Sion's songs.
1st Jew. Oft on Euphrates' ever verdant banks, Where drooping willows form a mournful shade, With all the pride which prosp'rous fortunes give, And all th' unfeeling mirth of happy men,
Th' insulting Babylonians ask a song;
Such songs as erst in better days were sung,
By Korah's sons, or heav'n-taught Asaph set
To loftiest measures: then our bursting hearts
Feel all their woes afresh: the galling chain
Of bondage crushes then the free-born soul
With writhing anguish; from the trembling lip
Th' unfinish'd cadence falls; and the big tear,
While it relieves, betrays the woe-fraught soul.
For who can view Euphrates' pleasant stream,
Its drooping willows, and it verdant banks,
And not to wounded memory recall
The piny groves of fertile Palestine,
The vales of Solyma, and Jordan's stream?
Dan. Firm faith and deep submission to high
Heav'n
Will teach us to endure, without a murmur,
What seems so hard. Think what the holy host
Of patriarchs, saints, and prophets have sustain'd
In the blest cause of truth! And shall not we,
O men of Judah, dare what these have dar'd,
And boldly pass through the refining fire
Of fierce affliction? Yes, be witness, Heav'n!
Old as I am, I will not shrink at death,
Come in what shape it may, if God so will,
By peril to confirm and prove my faith.
Oh! I would dare yon den of hungry lions,
Rather than pause to fill the task assign'd
By Wisdom Infinite. Nor think I boast,
Not in myself, but in thy strength I trust,
Spirit of God!
Prophet, thy words support
And raise our sinking souls.
There proud Belshazzar keeps his wanton court!
I knew it once beneath another lord,
His grandsire, who subdu'd Jehoiachin,
And hither brought sad Judah's captive tribes:
And with them brought the rich and precious relics
Of our fam'd Temple; all the holy treasure,
The golden vases, and the sacred cups,
Which grac'd, in happier times, the sanctuary.
2d Jew. May He, to whose blest use they were devoted,
Preserve them from pollution; and once more,
In his own gracious time, restore the Temple!
Dan. I, with some favour'd youths of Jewish race,
Was lodg'd in the king's palace, and instructed
In all the various learning of the East;
But He, on whose great name our fathers call'd,
Preserv'd us from the perils of a court,
Warn'd us to guard our youthful appetites,
And still with holy fortitude reject
The pamp❜ring viands luxury presented;
Fell luxury! more perilous to youth
Than storms or quicksands, poverty or chains.
|