Whose is that sword—that voice and eye of flame,
That heart of unextinguishable ire?
Who bears the dungeon-keys; and bonds, and fire?
Along his dark and withering path he came—
Death in his looks, and terror in his name,
Tempting the might of heaven’s Eternal Sire.
Lo, the Light shone! the sun’s veiled beams expire—
A Saviour’s self a Saviour’s lips proclaim!
Whose is yon form stretched on the earth’s cold bed,
With smitten soul, and tears of agony,