OUR PASSOVER! 'Twas night on Egypt's coast,
And all were hushed to rest save Israel's host;--
They, silent, wakeful, harnessed as for flight,
Each in his own hushed dwelling watched that night
Through the slow, fateful hours of deepening gloom,
The coming of God's Messenger of doom,
Whose piercing eye, through the deep, awful shade
By Judgment's stern uplifted pinions made,
The blood-mark on each dwelling should descry
Of the slain lamb, and, seeing, pass it by.
Thus, thus, O Soul! in that more awful hour
When the last Judgment's darker shadows lower,
And, swift and stern, God's messengers go forth
To reap the harvest of this fated Earth,--
If then, on thee is found no crimson stain
Of God's own Lamb on bloody Calvary slain,--
If thou art resting not beneath the blood
Of that one sacrifice ordained of God,
Where wilt thou fly?--where hide thyself away
From the dread reck'ning of the Judgment day?--
If resting 'neath the blood for sinners spilt,
Look up!--the judge Himself has borne thy guilt'
Justice and Judgement claim thy life in vain,
Since Christ, thy Passover, Himself is slain!
IMMANUEL!--God with us.
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