Where art thou _then_, who thus didst rashly cast Thine all upon the mercy of the blast, And vainly hope the tree of life to find Rooted in sands that flit before the wind? Is not that earth thy spirit loved so well, It wish’d not in a brighter sphere to dwell, Become a desert _now_, a vale of gloom, O’ershadow’d with the midnight of the tomb? Where shalt thou turn? It is not thine to raise To yon pure heaven thy calm confiding gaze-- No gleam reflected from that realm of rest Steals on the darkness of thy troubled breast; Not for thine eye shall Faith divinely shed Her glory round the image of the dead; And if, when slumber’s lonely couch is prest, The form departed be thy spirit’s guest, It bears no light from purer worlds to this; Thy future lends not e’en a dream of bliss. But who shall dare the gate of life to close, Or say, _thus far_ the stream of mercy flows? That fount unseal’d, whose boundless waves embrace Each distant isle, and visit every race, Pours from the throne of God its current free, Nor yet denies th’ immortal draught to thee. Oh! while the doom impends, not yet decreed, While yet th’ Atoner hath not ceased to plead-- While still, suspended by a single hair, The sharp bright sword hangs quivering in the air, Bow down thy heart to Him who will not break The bruisèd reed; e’en yet, awake, awake! Patient, because Eternal,[138] He may hear Thy prayer of agony with pitying ear, And send his chastening Spirit from above, O’er the deep chaos of thy soul to move. But seek thou mercy through his name alone, To whose unequall’d sorrows none was shown; Through Him, who here in mortal garb abode, As man to suffer, and to heal as God; And, born the sons of utmost time to bless, Endured all scorn, and aided all distress. Call thou on Him! for he, in human form, Hath walk’d the waves of life, and still’d the storm. He, when her hour of lingering grace was past, O’er Salem wept, relenting to the last-- Wept with such tears as Judah’s monarch pour’d O’er his lost child, ungrateful, yet deplored; And, offering guiltless blood that guilt might live, Taught from his Cross the lesson--to forgive! Call thou on Him! His prayer e’en then arose, Breathed in unpitied anguish for his foes. And haste!--ere bursts the lightning from on high, Fly to the City of thy Refuge, fly![139] So shall th’ Avenger turn his steps away, And sheath his falchion, baffled of its prey.