And saw her ruins drink the flood
Her children’s gore supplied.
Yet—yet—the day of wrath shall come!
Babel! like ours, a ruined home
Shall greet thy step of pride!
Blest shall he be who makes thee drain
The bitter cup of Israel’s pain!
THE CLOUD WHERE SUNBEAMS SOFT REPOSE.
The cloud where sunbeams soft repose,
Gilt by the changeful ray,