When some soft transient wind has chanced to sweep

The placid bosom of the waveless deep;

And now his conflict with the foe is done,

The night of death has veiled life's setting sun.

Behold that countenance

You see not there

The look of anguish, horror, or despair;

Ah no! the joy with which the spirit fled
Illumines still the features of the dead:

Thus does the western margin of the sky
Still with its golden tints enchant the eye,
Although the sun may have withdrawn his ray,

And twilight zephyrs chant the dirge of vanished day.

While they who trust in Jesus are forgiven,

Rejoice on earth, and reign at length in heaven,

Eternal death will be the doom of those

Who scorn his mercy and remain his foes.
A day will yet arrive, when every eye
Shall see him come with glory from on high,
And when, obedient to his dread command,

All Adam's offspring at his bar shall stand.

Methinks I hear the warning trumpet blown,

And see, awakened by its startling tone,

The countless generations of the dead

Arising from their still and lonely bed.

The earth resounds with many a piercing wail,
It trembles like the leaflet in the gale,

Gigantic waves on ocean's bosom roll,

And midnight darkness reigns from pole to pole: The sun's resplendent disk retires from view,

The shrouded moon displays a crimson hue,

The stars descend from heaven, each shining world That glittered o'er the azure concave, hurled

Far from the post assigned to it on high,

Strays like a comet through the boundless sky.
At length the long-continued midnight ends,
Mysterious light athwart the earth descends,
And soon mankind, o'erwhelmed with joy or fear,
See, throned in clouds, the Son of God appear.
Countless as waves upon the heaving main,

Around him stand the whole celestial train;

The brightest seraphim before Him bow,

All, all adore him; oh! how altered now

Is He whom yonder radiant hosts obey,
From Him who in the cheerless manger lay;
How altered now from Him who, when oppressed

With long-continued toil, no home possessed,
Beneath whose shelter he might lay his head,

The stone his pillow, and the heath his bed!

How altered now from Him whom ruffians bound,
Whose head with thorns deriding soldiers crowned!
From Him whom friends abandoned or denied,
Who on the cross bled, fainted, groaned, and died!
At length the sinful world receives its doom,
Surrounding flames the mighty orb consume,
Mankind arise the heavenly Judge to meet,
And all appear before His judgment-seat;
His sentence is pronounced, his saints ascend
To shine on high with angel hosts to blend
While all beside, with shrieks, reluctant, go
To dwell with demons in eternal woe.

Him, wretched nation! Him revile no more,
Whom angels praise, whom seraphim adore;
His claims no more with impious scorn deride,
Call on his name, and in His cross confide;
His worth in songs of grateful praise display,
Imbibe His spirit, all His laws obey;

Soon shall your Father's realms, so long implored
With vain though earnest prayer, be then restored,

Judea soon, from Moslem fetters freed,

Shall be the home of Jacob's exiled seed.

Then Salem shall no more a ruin lie,

Her prostrate towers again shall pierce the sky,
Again her temple shall arise, and shine

Like gold emerging from the gloomy mine.

No hostile force shall then invade the land,
Or that resistless, that almighty hand

Which shielded when Assyria's millions fell,
Will be once more the shield of Israel.
How unavailing proved that countless host!
How vain their daring chief's insulting boast!

Scarce has Judea's prayer been heard on high,
When lo! an angel leaves the lofty sky,

Darts like a meteor through the gloom of night,
And wings to Salem's walls his rapid flight.
The startled warriors view the heavenly form,
As seamen, struggling with the midnight storm,
Gaze on the rock by lightning's gleam descried,
Towering before them from the foaming tide.
Soon the dread task is done, the blow is given,
The seraph spreads his plumes, and soars to heaven;
Retiring night withdraws her sable shroud,

And morning's purple stains the eastern cloud,
The Hebrew watch beholds the camp, but sees

No banner floating in the morning breeze;
Amazed he stands-he listens, not a sound
Disturbs the stillness of the scene around;
Stretched on the earth the stern invaders lie,

Pale every visage, vacant every eye;

Not one survives of all the mighty train

To shed the tear of sorrow o'er the slain.