HE stopped at last And a mild look of sacred pity cast Down on the sinful land where he was sent To inflict the tardy punishment. "Ah! yet," said he, "Yet, stubborn king, repent, Whilst thus armed I stand Ere the keen sword of God fill my commanded hand. Suffer but thyself and thine to live Who would alas! believe That it for man," said he "So hard to be forgiven should be, And yet for God so easy to forgive!" Through Egypt's wicked land his march he took, And as he marched, the sacred first-born strook Of every womb; none did he spare, None, from the meanest beast to Pharaoh's purple heir. Whilst health and strength and gladness doth possess The festal Hebrew cottages; The blest destroyer comes not there To interrupt the sacred cheer: Upon their doors he read and understood. God's protection writ in blood; Well was he skilled in the character divine, And though he passed by it in haste, He bowed and worshipped as he passed The mighty mystery through its humble sign. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FUTURE LIFE by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A DEPOSITION FROM LOVE by THOMAS CAREW THE FIVE STUDENTS by THOMAS HARDY THE COURTSHIP OF THE YONGHY-BONGHY-BO by EDWARD LEAR THE GIRL OF ALL PERIODS; AN IDYLL by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE SONNET: 110 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |