And with it all its holy memories, And thoughts of Zion and Jerusalem; And, breeze-like from the hills of heaven, again The echo of angelic harmonies, And rushing of the wings of cherubim Swept o'er thy spirit. Then thy tongue was loosed; Nor longer mute, the harp of prophecy Woke to thy raptured touch its strains of fire. "Woe to the wicked! he shall surely die; Woe to the iron heart, and right hand clench'd Woe to the murderer, the rebellious son, The daughter revelling in harlotry, The faithless wife, the dark adulterer, The sin-polluted homes of Israel! Woe unto him who leaves the living God, Insensate, to adore upon the hills His idol deities of lust and blood!" Woe to the land that hath abandon'd God; Upon the string. The sentence is gone forth. The messengers of death are on their way, The wrath of the Eternal! who shall stand It ceased awhile, that wail of prophecy; Of crumbling sepulchres. Thine eyes have seen, Of Tammuz, and those worshippers who kneel In vile prostration to the rising sun.1 Woe for the bloody city! seeing not Those awful watchers standing at her gates White-robed, and girt with weapons keen as death: Nor hearing in her giddy mirth the words That fell, Ezekiel, on thy anguish'd soul 1 Ezek. viii. 5-18. 2 Ezek. ix. 1-7. 2 "Go through the gates, go through the streets, and slay Slay old and young, virgin and suckling child, In secret bitterly before their God." Woe for apostate Salem! she forsakes Her glory, and the glory of the Lord As loath to leave His chosen heritage, From court to court the cloud of brightness swept, And on the threshold brooded, awfully Reluctant; but anon the cherubim And wheels, and sapphire throne, and firmament Of crystal, moving silently, forsook Thy gates, O Zion: and a little space When the last sands of mercy had run out, 1 See Ezek. x. 18; xi. 22, 23. Joy once for beautiful Jerusalem! Hers was the time of love,1 when cast abroad And soon had wept her last: but lo! the Lord And love her breasts like sculptured ivory About her like a veil transparent waved. Her raiment was of broider'd needlework, And silks of richest dyes; and Ophir hung Her hands with bracelets, and her neck with chains; And jewels, sparkling as the dew-drops, lit 1 Ezek. xvi. 1-14. 2 Song iv. 5. 8 "It was perfect through My comeliness which I had put upon thee." -Ezek. xvi. 14. Ah, woe for faithless Salem! where is now And sin has marr'd a second Paradise, When she the loveliest, most beloved of brides, The curse has fallen on thee: bitter tears Of blood and anguish have been wept: thy bloom Is trampled in the dust, thy charms exposed To every gazer's ridicule; and none But God could pardon thee. But hark! He speaks1 Of pardon, and of early covenants Of free forgiveness, and a happier home Of silent love and humble trustfulness. But Israel was not lonely in her guilt, Nor lonely was her chastisement. Beside The flowing waves of Chebar rose the strains Of prophecy which after years have sung As dirges of the fall of many lands. Proud Moab sunk before those prescient words, More terrible than thunder, or the shout 1 Ezek. xvi. 60-63. |