Where suns scarce warm this earth's remotest shore, Shall India's lords beneath thy sceptre bend, Whilst their black troops stand silent and adore? To thee, sole lord, shall earth her stores unfold, Pour all her gems to thee, and mines that flame with gold? Shall ocean's waves, obedient to thy call, As erst to Moses, rang'd in order stand; Whilst crowds once more admire the floating wall, And treasures open on the glittering sand? Or shall Fame's breath inspire each softer air, Thee just and good, to distant worlds Stern desolation reigns, and kingdoms float in gore. Her, Wealth succeeds, and scarce his tottering head Sustains the glittering ore's incumbent weight; O'er his old limbs were tatter'd garments spread; A well-fix'd staff directs his feeble feet. Thus mean himself appear'd; but all around What crowds unnumber'd hail the passing seer! Power, as he came, bow'd lowly to the ground, And own'd with reverence a superior there. CONSECRATION OF THE TEMPLE. I. Kings viii; II. Chron. vi. THE King bowed low on his brazen throne Where bright on Moriah's fair summit shone, In the dazzling light of an eastern sun, The glorious House of the Holy One; And the countless myriads breathless knelt, Around the cloud where Jehovah dwelt, While ascended the monarch's prayer : "O Lord, God of Israel, who reignest above, Peerless in justice and perfect in love, God of my fathers, who walked in Thy ways, Look on the house I have built for Thy praise; And when prayer from this temple is borne toward the sky, Then hear Thou from Heaven, Thy dwelling-place high, And hearing, oh Father, forgive! If man, to whom evil and weakness belong, His friend or his neighbour shali wilfully wrong, Yet repent of his sin toward his brother and Thee, And hoping for grace to Thy footstool shall flee, If his prayer from this temple is borne toward the sky, Then hear Thou from Heaven, Thy dwelling-place high, And hearing, oh Father, forgive! If Israel (whose fountain of power Thou art) Her dependence forget in the pride of her heart: And fighting should fall 'neath the enemy's sword; Yet humbly repentant should return to her Lord, If her prayer from this temple be borne toward the sky, Then hear Thou from Heaven, Thy dwelling-place high, And hearing, oh Father, forgive! And now, oh Thou God of Salvation, appear! With the beautiful Ark of Thy Covenant here; Oh! hallow this temple and make it Thy rest, Let its priests in the robe of Thy glory be drest, Let the saints Thou hast saved in Thy fathomless love Behold Thee descending in light from above, And shout-That their joy is in Thee." So Solomon spoke, and his prayer being ended, On his offering fire from Heaven descended, And loud through the temple high glory ing rang, While the people in one mighty utter HIRAM'S TOMB. I STAND on Hiram's tomb, And Tyre before me lies; Of Life's fitful fortunes What memories arise! King, of all thy greatness Are scattered to the wind. Here thou revelled greatly Amidst thy sons and wives; Here played the kingly game With thy poor subjects' lives. Wafted th' obedient sea Rich argosies for you; For you Sidonian damsels Weaved webs of Tyrian hue. And when the time came near, That you, e'en you, must die, To keep your name for ever You raised this tomb on high. But one sole act unnoticed Thy memory hangs upon; Thou wast King David's friend, Ally of Solomon. Thy hills lofty cedars For God's own house did send; Thy cunning workmen built The palace of thy friend. Thus thy name was written In characters of gold, And gratefully thy help In that great work is told. Tyre, cry from thy ashes, "Great are God's prophecies!" Thou, Queen, that hast fallen In the dust from the skies! Bethsaida and Chorazin More tolerable for you. Still your name is sounding |