The Burden of Dumah

The bur­den of Du­mah! A voice out of Seir

Cries

Tell me

O watch­man! if morn­ing be near.

It com­eth—it com­eth! Bright gleams in the sky

Proclaiming the pro­mised re­demp­tion is nigh!

Soon

soon shall cre­ation’s long mid­night be done

The rest of eter­ni­ty’s Sab­bath be­gun;

When

cast­ing her week­day soiled gar­ments away

She stands fresh ap­par­eled in ves­tures of day.

Oh! hast­en

Lord! hast­en this hal­cy­on time

When earth shall ex­ult in the bliss of her prime

The sons of the morn­ing re­sum­ing their strain

O’er Ed­en

re­stored to her glor­ies again.

The morn­ing it com­eth! but al­so the night!

Lo! vi­sions of ven­geance loom dark on the sight!

The me­te­or of hope

with its bright beam­ing ray

To scorn­ers of grace is fast dim­ming away.

Ere earth shall be girt with its red fie­ry flood

Or moon shall dis­solve in her ocean of blood

Ere stars in their courses shall trem­ble and fall

The wick­ed in vain to the mount­ains shall call.

Great God! in Thy mer­cy look down from ab­ove

And touch ev­ery heart with Thy scep­ter of love

Lest

tears un­avail­ing

we come to de­plore

That of­fers of grace can be ten­dered no more!