DULL thunders moan around the Temple rock, And deep in hollow caves, far underneath. The lonely watchman feels the sullen shock, His footsteps timing as the low winds breathe; Hark! from the Shrine is ask'd, What steadfast heart Dares in the storm go forth? Who takes the Almighty's part? And with a bold gleam flush'd, full many a brow Is raised to say, "Behold me, Lord, and send!" But ere the words be breathed, some broken vow Remember'd, ties the tongue; and sadly blend With faith's pure incense, clouds of conscience dim, And faltering tones of guilt mar the Confessor's hymn. |