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    "When the midnight stars are burning,
And the dead to earth returning;
When the spirits of the blest
Rise upon the good man's rest;
When each whisper of the gale
Bids the cheek of guilt turn pale;
In the shadow of the hour,
That o'er the soul hath deepest power,
Why thus meet we, but to call
For judgment on the criminal?
Why, but the doom of guilt to seal,
And point th' avenger's holy steel?
A fearful oath has bound our souls,
A fearful power our arm controls!
There is an ear, awake on high,
E'en to thought's whispers, ere they die;
There is an eye, whose beam pervades
All depths, all deserts, and all shades;
That ear hath heard our awful vow,
That searching eye is on us now!
Let Him, whose heart is unprofan'd,
Whose hand no blameless blood hath stain'd—
Let Him, whose thoughts no record keep
Of crimes, in silence buried deep,
Here, in the face of Heaven, accuse
The guilty whom its wrath pursues!"
'Twas hush'd—that voice of thrilling sound,
And a dead silence reign'd around.
Then stood forth one, whose dim-seen form,
Tower'd like a phantom in the storm;
Gathering his mantle, as a cloud,
with its dark folds his face to shroud,
Through pillar'd arches on he pass'd,
With stately step, and paus'd at last,
Where, on the altar's mouldering stone,
The fitful moonbeam brightly shone;
Then on the fearful stillness broke
Low, solemn tones, as thus he spoke;

    "Before that eye, whose glance pervades
All depths, all deserts, and all shades;