THE Lord will come! the earth shall quake, The hills their fixed seat forsake; And, withering, from the vault of night The stars withdraw their feeble light. The Lord will come! but not the same As once in lowly form He came, A silent Lamb to slaughter led, The bruised, the suffering, and the dead. The Lord will come! a dreadful form, With wreath of flame, and robe of storm, On cherub wings, and wings of wind, Anointed Judge of human-kind! Can this be He who wont to stray A pilgrim on the world's highway; By power oppress'd, and mock'd by pride? Oh God! is this the crucified? Go, tyrants! to the rocks complain! Go, seek the mountains cleft in vain! But faith, victorious o'er the tomb, Shall sing for joy -- the Lord is come! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUCTION: ANDERSON GALLERIES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER DEATH IN THE KITCHEN by THOMAS HOOD ONLY WAITING by FRANCES LAUGHTON MACE A VALENTINE by LAURA ELIZABETH HOWE RICHARDS THEODORE ROOSEVELT by MORRIS ABEL BEER ASOLANDO: DUBIETY by ROBERT BROWNING |