THE DEATH OF SAMSON.
Judges, Chap. xvi. verses 21 to 30.
FALL'N, forsaken, and forlorn,
Far from friends and country torn;
By a harlot's wiles betray'd,
See in yonder dungeon laid
Israel's champion, bound and blind,
Doom'd at Gaza's mill to grind.
Heard ye not that loud acclaim?
Dagon's priests a feast proclaim;
Throngs of senseless devotees
Prostrate fall on bended knees,
Notes of high thanksgiving raise,
Off'ring sacrifice and praise.
Crowded is the temple now,
Thousands to the idol bow;
High, and low, and rich, and poor,
The unconscious log adore;
Praise him for the conquest gain'd, Praise him for their conqueror chain'd.
Plentiful libations flow,
"Till the nobles mirthful grow,
And to aid their revelry
Loud for Samson's presence cry;
"Call this man of might," they say,
"Let him make us sport to-day."
See, he comes with fetter'd tread,
Bursting heart, and drooping head;
Flowing tresses, quickly grown,
O'er his shoulders wildly thrown;
Arms with super-human pow'r
Nerv'd for that momentous hour.
Shouts of savage joy arise,
While with fix'd and wond'ring eye
On this peerless man they gaze,
All absorb'd in strange amaze.
But they know not-God is there,
Hearing, owning, answ'ring pray'r.
Pray'r?-yes, faith's unutter'd cry,
"God of Israel, Lord Most High,
"Thou to whom alone belongs
Vengeance-now avenge my wrongs!
"God of Israel, Lord Most High,
"With these heathens let me die."
Thus the captive exile press'd
Fervently his last request;
Then, conducted by his guide,
Finds the pillars on each side;
Grasping firm with giant hands
Those on which the building stands.
One vast effort, and 'tis done,
Pray'r is answer'd, vict'ry won ;
Samson wears the martyr's crown,
Dagon's temple tumbles down;
Priests and people, lords and all,
Buried in that mighty fall.
So in after ages died
Christ, for sinners crucified;
So the Prince of Martyrs fell,
So He crush'd the pow'rs of hell;
So his people's peace obtain'd,
So the crown of glory gain'd.
HAMAN CONDUCTING MORDECAI THROUGH THE CITY.
THE Jew, as the royal steed he strode,
Through the thickening crowds in silence rode;
Grave was his mien, and calm his brow,
Undazzled, unmoved by the glittering show
That steadfast soul which did not fear
The Heathen's menace, the Heathen's sneer,
Had known too long the favor and smile
Of the world to be duped by its artful guile :
His heart in solemn prayer arose
To his only defence, when encompassed by foes,
To the Author of all that brightened his days,
The stay of his soul, and the theme of his praise;
His thoughts to captive Israel roam,
To the land of his birth, and his distant home;
And much he prayed that the Sun which beamed,
Tho' briefly and dimly, once more to have beamed
On the captive sons of Israel, might
Break forth and shine with its former light.
Slowly the Heathen lord paced by
With sunken head, and downcast eye,
His thoughts, as the ocean billows roll,
Disturbed and racked his swelling soul,
He thought of his honors, his wealth, his pride,
And all that he gloried in beside;
He looked at the crown on the brow of the Jew,
And turned aside his sickening view;
He cursed the day when his zealous mind
Such splendid honors as these designed;
He passed the palace gate, and his face
Grew pale at the scene of his old disgrace;
The uncrouching form, the unbending knee,
Of the Jew he did not fail to see.
He passed before his own palace gate,
Bedecked with gold and kingly state;
He glanced one look, with anxious care,
To see if his wife, his friends were there;
Perchance he caught the wondering eye
Of his gazing spouse as he hurried by ;—
Death were to him a relief to his pain,
The only cure for his racking brain-
But the scene is o'er, the task is done,
What Haman missed the Jew has won ;
His restless couch he sought, and the morrow
Presents new themes for care and sorrow;
Disturbed were the slumbers that partially bound him,
And dark the forebodings that flitted around him.
APPROACHING THE END.
WHEN the weak body sinks
Beneath its load of years,
And human reason shrinks,
O'ercome with nature's fears.
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