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The temple of the Cherubim,
Well may the cavern-depths of Earth
To gaze upon a suffering God! "Well may the temple-shrine grow dim, And shadows veil the Cherubim, When He, the chosen one of Heaven, A sacrifice for guilt is given!
And shall the sinful heart, alone,
Behold unmoved the atoning hour, When Nature trembles on her throne, And Death resigns his iron power? Oh, shall the heart — whose sinfulness Gave keenness to His sore distress, And added to His tears of blood — Refuse its trembling gratitude!
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.
Where Time the measure of his hours
And like a young bride crowned with flowers,
Where, to her poet's turban stone,
The Spring her gift of flowers imparts,
Less sweet than those his thoughts have sown
There sat the stranger, where the shade
While in the hot clear heaven delayed
Strange trees and fruits above him hung,
Strange birds upon the branches swung,
And strange bright blossoms shone around,
As if the Gheber's soul had found
Whate'er he saw, whate'er he heard,
No Christian garb, nor Christian word,
Nor church with Sabbath bell chimes glad,
But Moslem graves, with turban stones,
And mosque-spires gleaming white, in view,
And grey-beard Mollahs in low tones
The flowers which smiled on either hand
Which once, o'er all that Eastern land,
As if the burning eye of Baal
The servant of his Conqueror knew,
From skies which knew no cloudy veil,
"Ah me !" the lonely stranger said,
And light from Heaven around them shed,
"Where are the harvest fields all white,
Where flock the souls, like doves in flight,
"A silent horror broods o'er all —
The burden of a hateful spell — The very flowers around recall
The hoary magi's rites of hell!
"And what am I, o'er such a land The banner of the Cross to bear?
Dear Lord uphold me with thy hand,
Thy strength with human weakness share!"
He ceased; for at his very feet
How thrilled his sinking heart to greet