by Mrs. R. Hyneman
Like Roseate clouds that, at the day’s decline,
Gather in gorgeous beauty ‘round the sun,
And pageant his departure, they appear,
Bright and ethereal, floating thro’ the mist
That, like a veil, is spread ‘twixt earth and heaven.
If thus, oh! Fountain of eternal light,
The soul finds pleasure holding sweet commune
With the faint shadows of thy blest abode,
How will thy glories burst upon the view,
When the freed spirit wakens from its dream,
And earth, so long the grave of buried hopes,
Releases us forever!
Lift from her virgin brow the veil;
Young Hebrew, unto thee is sent
A ministering angel, whose bright form
Brings peace and joy within thy tent.
And thou, fair daughter of the East,
Whose stately step and flashing eye--
Whose graceful form and noble mien--
Proclaim thy birth and lineage high;--
When thy dark eyes were heaven-ward raised,
Did fires prophetic light thy soul,
And point to thee the weary path,
Thy children tread to win their goal?
Or did bright visions cheer thy soul,
And spread a beaming halo o’er them,--
When gentile kings should own their sway,
And haughty nations bow before them?*
Thy faith, thy love, thy modest worth,
Need no recording tablet now;
No stone on which to grave thy name,
Nor earthly wreath to bind thy brow.
Deep in each earnest Jewish heart
Are shrined those memories of the past,
Memories that time can ne’er efface,
Nor sorrow’s blighting wing o’ercast.
Philadelphia, June 20th, 1846.
* "And the gentiles shall come to thy light, and
kings to the brightness of thy rising."--ISAIAH.
Rebekah Hyneman Index