3. The Messiah

3

THE MESSIAH.

Lord, tell me when
Shall come to men
Messiah blest,
When shall Thy care
His couch prepare
To be my guest,
To sleep on my golden bed,
in my palace rest.

Wake, dear gazelle,
Shake off thy spell,
Nor slumber still.
Dawn like a flag
Surmounts the crag
Of Tabor’s hill,
And its flame it unfurls o’er my
Hermon, the hoar and chill.

From the wild-ass brood
To the grace renewed
Of Thy dainty roe,
O Lord, return,
For behold we yearn
Our love to show,
And our soul with Thy soul at
one as of yore to know.

Thrice welcome he
Who comes to me
Of David’s line,
My palace treasure
Is at his pleasure
With all that’s mine,
My pomegranate, cinnamon, spice, and
the jars of my old sweet wine.