BUT sadder strains, and direr bodings dark,
Come haunting round th' Almighty's captive ark,
By proud Philistian hosts beset,
With axe and dagger newly whet
To hew the holy gold away,
And seize their portion as they may.
Fain would we fix th' unswerving foot, and bare
The strong right arm, to share
The glorious holy war; but how undo
The knot our father tied? Are we not spoilers too?

How for God's Altar may that arm be bold,
Where cleaves the rust of sacrilege of old?
Oh, would my country once believe,
But once her contrite bosom heave,
And but in wish or vow restore
But one fair shrine despoil'd of yore!
How would the windows of th' approving sky
Shower down the dews on high!
Arm'd Levites then, within the Temple dome,
Might we the foe await, nor yet profane God's home

Vain disappointing dream! but oh! not vain,
If haply on the wakening heart remain
The vow of pure self-sacrifice,
The conscience yearning to devise
How God may have His treasure lost,
And we not serve Him without cost.
To such methought I heard an Angel say,
" Offer not all to-day,
While spoilers keep the shrine: yet offer all,
Treasurer of God's high cause: half priestly is thy call. "
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