So, tho' we hear
Thy voice on earth no more, the holy hymn
With which thou down to Jordan's shore didst pass,
To take thy last, cold baptism, still shall waft
As from some cloud its echo'd sweetness back,
To teach us of the melody of Heaven.
"IT IS FINISH'D."
The harp of prophecy was hush'd,
Strange tones its music drown,
For angel-choirs to Bethlehem's vales
With songs of peace came down,
And Christ to Calvary went forth,
Wearing his thorny crown.
Asunder clave the rifted rocks,
The quaking Earth did wail,
Thick darkness came at noon-day up
The shrinking Sun to veil,
And from the mouldering charnel-house
Stalk'd forth the tenants pale.
"'Tis finish'd," cried the Son of God,
And yielded up the ghost,
"'Tis finish'd," echoed far and wide
The bright, celestial coast,
And Man, the sinner, shouted high
Amid the ransom'd host.
