Who, though unparleying with the foe within,
Griev'st and lament'st thy latent bosom-sin;
How have th' unequal steps that still have trod
(Yea, e'en their falls) the holiest sons of God,
Helped thee thy frailty's weary load to bear,
Or held from the dark chambers of despair!
While those sweet songs, those hallowed melodies,
Wherein the burdened spirit raised its cries;
Those penitential strains, in which outflowed
The wounded heart, and communed with its God,
How have they peace and hope and comfort given,
And borne thy spirit to the gates of heaven!
The dark eclipse o'erpast, his closing days
Emitted mellower warmth and purer rays.
His foes subdued (oh bitter thought, that those
Nearest his heart had proved his deadliest foes!)
His realm, his people's love restored (a love
Which only filial treachery could move
From its true, loyal poise) the royal breast,
Wounded and worn, found once again its rest.
Loaded with benefits (nor pardoned sin
The least), his grateful spirit stirred within,
A trophy and memorial to raise,
To his Defender, Sovereign, Saviour's praise.
He deemed the curtained tabernacle small
And mean, nor meet for the great Lord of All;
(He, fragile Monarch of a fragile race,
Holding in cedared palaces his place ;)
He longed an Oratory large to find,
For the deep breathings of the Nation's mind;
And burned, a fitting structure to erect,
A habitation, Heaven might not reject.
God saw the aim, and smiled; indulgent still,
E'en unfulfilled, He loves the zealous will;
Yet partially alone the boon conferred;
The rest His secret purposes deferred;
The Father shall the mighty work prepare;
The Son shall be to its completion heir.
Straight the great work commenced: he kingly willed,
And, as a king, his royal plans fulfilled.
His aim was not like theirs, by whom 'twas striven,
Of old, to scale the skies, and build to Heaven-
(Poor sons of dust, pigmies of earthly birth)—
He sought Creation's Lord to bring to earth;
Yet knew, the Heaven of heavens would seek in vain,
Infinitude's Creator to contain.
For the deep-dug foundations, massy, square,
Thousands with shapely tools the blocks prepare,
As if the broad-based mountains they should bear:
To
prop the lofty roofs, in clustered rows
Of choicest marble, polished pillars rose:
Hosts numerous as o'erspread the battle-field,
Were sent the peaceful axe and saw to wield;
On Libanus the hoary forests fell,
And stately firs of Tyre the triumph swell:
Earth's bowels dark were rifled; heaps untold
Of iron, brass and silver, Ophir's gold,
And blazing gems, their costly tribute bore,
T'enrich and swell the consecrated store.
Then, downward, from the tenant of the throne, All burn to aid, and make the work their own: Foremost the king in bounteous largess—all Respond, and e'en forestall the royal call.
A mighty impulse heaves, and swells, and grows;
The kindling flame through every bosom glows:
The rich, in noble emulation, strive
Of their abundance, heaven-endowed, to give;
The poorer
in their measure—yea, e'en more-
With cheerful hearts bring of their scanty store:
Youths from their pastime and indulgence spare,
Their parents' hallowed offerings to share;
And children, in the dawn of opening grace,
Their infant-tributes on the altar place :-
All own the motive by their ruler given,—
Not theirs they gave, 'twas the sole gift of Heaven.
Next, as in war's array, the leader skilled,
Marshals his forces on the tented field;
Each station furnishes, each post directs;
With careful eye the heaving mass inspects;
Adjusts, prepares, informs, and moulds the whole,
A mobile body, and a sentient soul;—
So, in this gentler service, of the Race
To sacred rites devote, their several place,
Heaven-taught, the king assigns; to some the care
And comely ordering of the House of Prayer;
Some, censered clouds to waft; and some to tend
The sacred flames that should from Heaven descend:
Some, the rich stores with jealous eye to heed;
Some, to prepare the victims doomed to bleed:
And last, the bands, symphonious taught to raise
Responsive songs of high-resounding praise;
Or touch the trembling string, and bid the note
Of breathing harmony through fluttering echo float.
But, chief, were secret revelations given, (Perchance in solemn vision rapt) from Heaven, Of those mysterious symbols, which, alone, Through heavenly teaching could by man be known; The forms and patterns of that great design, Which-man fulfilling-asked a mind Divine. The fretted roofs, the pillars tall and wreathed; Censers that clouds of incense breathed;
The gates, the walls, the floors with gold o'erspread,
Altars, and tables for the sacred bread;
And most, that mystic Place, impervious sealed,
And to one mortal eye alone revealed-
His, who, blood-sprinkled, was to bear within
The bleeding victim for a Nation's sin;
Which broad-winged cherubs watched, and gazed with awe On the ark-shrouded records of the law.
Majestic tokens! Pause we here, to trace
Their priceless value to our helpless race:
That blood-besprinkled, blood-besprinkling priest,
(Blood, worthless in itself, of slaughtered beast,)
Type of the mightier Priest, and victim, both,
Who should to pardon move Jehovah's wrath;
That richer blood, hereafter to be spilt,
To expiate a universe in guilt;
Which shall to countless ages ceaseless flow,
To cleanse and heal a world of sin and woe.
The censered incense-clouds, which wreathed ascend,
And with the fires of blazing victims blend,
Figure of these sweet odours which, combined
With the Saint's prayers, Divine complacence find:
That Place oracular, impervious, sealed,
And to one priestly eye alone revealed;
Trod at long intervals, and then
To all, impenetrably closed again;
Pledge of the unveiled Mercy-seat, where grace
And pity stand to woo a ruined race;
Where Justice is with boundless Love conjoined,
And all, in penitence and faith, acceptance find.
His work was done: revered, beloved, and wept. The monarch, full of years and glory, slept.
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