15
For there, clear seen against the evening sky,
In marshalled lines the tents of Israel lie.
Each varied tribe encamped apart he sees,
Their bannered ensigns streaming on the breeze;
And in the midst—alone, on holy ground—
Beneath the arching cloud which floats around,
That sacred place, where God himself descends
To guard and guide the race His love befriends,
And hold mysterious converse, high and dread,
With him by whom their countless hosts are led.
Thrice holy spot! there still the towering cloud
By day extends its dark and awful shroud,
To guide o'er trackless wastes the chosen band,
Who seek with pilgrim-steps their promised land;
And through the hours of darkness glows with light,
A giant torch to break the gloom of night,
And bid the sons of Jacob peaceful sleep,
For still their God a ceaseless watch will keep,
And guard from danger all who slumber there,
With quenchless love and yet unwearied care.
In marshalled lines the tents of Israel lie.
Each varied tribe encamped apart he sees,
Their bannered ensigns streaming on the breeze;
And in the midst—alone, on holy ground—
Beneath the arching cloud which floats around,
That sacred place, where God himself descends
To guard and guide the race His love befriends,
And hold mysterious converse, high and dread,
With him by whom their countless hosts are led.
Thrice holy spot! there still the towering cloud
By day extends its dark and awful shroud,
To guide o'er trackless wastes the chosen band,
Who seek with pilgrim-steps their promised land;
And through the hours of darkness glows with light,
A giant torch to break the gloom of night,
And bid the sons of Jacob peaceful sleep,
For still their God a ceaseless watch will keep,
And guard from danger all who slumber there,
With quenchless love and yet unwearied care.
Still deeply musing o'er their long array,
Now bathed in sunset's last declining ray,
The prophet stands upon the mountain's height,
His wild locks streaming on the breeze of night,
Till earthly thoughts and feelings all expire,
And o'er his soul, on wings of living fire,
The Spirit comes! Lo! now in lengthened train
The forms of future years arise again;
And visioned empires, stretched in long array,
Come dimly "towering on,"—then pass away:
While far beyond, the glorious latter days
Now bathed in sunset's last declining ray,
The prophet stands upon the mountain's height,
His wild locks streaming on the breeze of night,
Till earthly thoughts and feelings all expire,
And o'er his soul, on wings of living fire,
The Spirit comes! Lo! now in lengthened train
The forms of future years arise again;
And visioned empires, stretched in long array,
Come dimly "towering on,"—then pass away:
While far beyond, the glorious latter days
