Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still,
Waiting to hear his doom:—
Depart! depart, O child
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God!
For He has smote thee with His chastening rod;
And to the desert-wild,
From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee,
That from thy plague His people may be free.
Depart! and come not near
The busy mart, the crowded city, more;