Soars to a pitch of eloquence sublime,
While the deep woods are vocal with his prayer.
His words, like rain upon the thirsty ground,
Fall on the ear of that great multitude.
Now he describes a Savior’s matchless love—
His high estate, his exile from the throne,
His mocking trial, and his felon death;
The noonday sun in darkness veils its face,
And earthquake voices fill the trembling air,
While the old dead in shrouds, through Salem’s streets,