THE CEDARS OF LEBANON.
Eagles that wheel above our crests,
Say to the storms that round us blow,
They cannot harm our gnarled breasts
Firm rooted as we are, below.
Their utmost efforts we defy!
They lift the sea-waves to the sky,
But when they wrestle with our arms
Nervous and gaunt, or lift our hair,
Balanced within its cradle fair
The tiniest bird has no alarms.
Sons of the rock, no mortal hand
Here planted us; God-sown we grew.
We're the diadem green and grand
On Eden's summit that He threw.
When waters in a deluge rose
Our hollow flanks could well enclose
Awhile, the whole of Adam's race;
And children of the patriarch
Within our forest built the Ark
Of covenant, foreshadowing grace.
We saw the tribes as captives led,
We saw them back return anon;
As rafters have our branches dead
Covered the porch of Solomon.
