Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/359

COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA 221 �O now! methinks, I hear her say, The Sun of Righteousnesse today, Must break, must rise, must come away, With healing in his wings. �'Tis done, behold the God appear, �Fulfilling all that he has said; �Captivity, is Captive led, Death, of his old in venom' d spear Behold disarm' d, and Conquer'd here; The Grave, no more the Members fear, �Since risen in the Head. �In vain the silly Rabbins strove, �A Strattagem of force to find, �The Lord Omnipotent to bind. Too weak, to stop Almighty love, Their guard, their stone, their seal must prove, The trembling Earth, does all remove �Like dust before the wind. �Lett ransom' d men in praises vye, Lett ev'ry faithfull Soul, rejoyce, And tune to Angels notes, his voyce. �Hail ! Son of David, lett them cry, �Hail! Thou that livest, and didst dye, �That left'st thy glorious Seat, on high, And Sufferings mad'st thy choyce. �Unfold, ye Everlasting Gates, �That guard the great Jehova's Towers, Those sacred, mystick leaves of yours, �The King of Glory for you waites; Receive him, oh! ye blissfull Bowers, Ye Thrones, Dominions, Scepter'd Powers, He Comes! accomplish'd are the hours, �Appointed by the Fates. ��� �