"And shall we leave, from age to age,

To godless hands the holy tomb?
Against thy saints the heathen rage—

Launch forth thy lightnings, and consume!"

Swift, as he spoke, before his sight

A form flash'd, white-robed, from above;

All Heaven was in those looks of light,
But Heaven, whose native air is love.

"Alas!" the solemn vision said,

"Thy God is of the shield and spearTo bless the quick and raise the dead, The Saviour-God descended here!

"Ah! know'st thou not the very name
Of Salem bids thy carnage cease-

A symbol in itself to claim

God's people to a house of peace?

"Ask not the Father to reward

The hearts that seek, through blood, the Son;

O warrior! never by the sword

The Saviour's Holy Land is won!”

SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON.