Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/57

His arm upheld the host of Israel safe.
When countless perils round their path were poured—
Weak in His grasp they saw the billows chafe—
The mightiest shall he His people's sword!

Faith, Hope, and Charity—confiding pray'r—
Breathed to the King of kings, in anguish deep.
The mercy won for Job's unmurmuring care,
That o'er the mourner's trust will never sleep.

Longinus too, with gathering ills opprest,
That solace earned, with tears and holy deeds,
Which heav'n exults to pour upon the breast
That loves, and bows confiding while it bleeds.

And He, the Holy One, whose gushing veins
Spilled their redeeming current for our weal—
He shall be with us— and shall rend our chains,
Our burthens lighten, and our freedom seal.

The extinction of our race—our country's shame.
The tyrant threatens—but the power that shed
Through Lazarus' cold lips the vital flame,
A shield of safety for the Gael shall spread.

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