by George Moses Horton
On heaven's ethereal plain,
Where hostile rage ambition first begun,
When the arch rebel strove himself to reign
And take Jehovah's throne.
Swift to the fight the seraphim
On floods of pride were seen to swim,
And bold defy the power supreme,
And thus their God disown.
High on a dome of state,
From azure fields he cast his daring eye,
Licentious trains his magazines await,
At whose command they fly.
The gloom excludes celestial charms,
When all the angels rush to arms,
Heaven shakes beneath the vast alarms,
And earth begins to sigh.
Eternal mountains move,
And seven-fold thunders rock the hills below,
While starry throngs desert the worlds above,
Beneath Jehovah's brow.
O Lucifer, thou morning son,
To glut thy pride what hast thou done?
Sing, O ye heavens, the plague is gone,
And weep, thou earth, for woe.
Creation felt the fall,
And trembling nature heav'd a dismal groan;
For that rebellion brought her into thrall,
She must her fate bemoan;
See angels fall no more to rise,
And feed the worm that never dies;
No ear of grace can hear their cries,
And hoarse lamenting tone.
Weak nature lay exposed,
And felt the wound in pleasing hate conceal'd;
And, void of fear, the secret charm disclosed
Which ev'ry ill reveal'd.
The venom struck through ev'ry vein,
And every creature felt the pain;
But undefiled a lamb was slain,
By which the wound was heal'd.
Last updated March 11, 2023