20
When to our cup of trembling
The added drop is given—
And the long-suspended thunder
Falls terribly from Heaven,—
When a new and fearful freedom
Is proffered of the Lord
To the slow-consuming famine—
The Pestilence and Sword!—
When the refuges of Falsehood
Shall be swept away in wrath,
And the temple shall be shaken
With its idol to the earth,—
Shall not thy words of warning
Be all remembered then?
And thy now unheeded message
Burn in the hearts of men?
Oppression's hand may scatter
Its nettles on thy tomb,
And even Christian bosoms
Deny thy memory room—
For lying lips shall torture
Thy mercy into crime,
And the slanderer shall flourish
As the bay-tree for a time.
But, where the South-wind lingers
On Carolina's pines—
Or, falls the careless sunbeam
Down Georgia's golden mines—
