63. The Call of David
|
{118}
"And the Lord said, Arise, anoint him, for
this is he." |
LATEST born of Jesse's race, |
| Wonder lights thy bashful face, |
| While the Prophet's gifted oil |
| Seals thee for a path of toil. |
| We, thy Angels, circling round thee, |
| Ne'er shall find thee as we found thee, |
| When thy faith first brought us near |
| In thy lion-fight severe. |
Go! and mid thy flocks awhile |
| At thy doom of greatness smile; |
| Bold to bear God's heaviest load, |
| Dimly guessing of the road,— {119} |
| Rocky road, and scarce ascended, |
| Though thy foot be angel-tended. |
Twofold praise thou shalt attain, |
| In royal court and battle plain; |
| Then comes heart-ache, care, distress, |
| Blighted hope, and loneliness; |
| Wounds from friend and gifts from foe, |
| Dizzied faith, and guilt, and woe; |
| Loftiest aims by earth defiled, |
| Gleams of wisdom sin-beguiled, |
| Sated power's tyrannic mood, |
| Counsels shared with men of blood, |
| Sad success, parental tears, |
| And a dreary gift of years. |
Strange, that guileless face and form |
| To lavish on the scarring storm! |
| Yet we take thee in thy blindness, |
| And we buffet thee in kindness; |
| Little chary of thy fame,— |
| Dust unborn may bless or blame,— {120} |
| But we mould thee for the root |
| Of man's promised healing Fruit, |
| And we mould thee hence to rise, |
| As our brother, to the skies. |
Lazaret, Malta.
January 18, 1833. |