Was it thus, stricken remnant, the glory of God
Burst forth on thy fathers, and showered its light
Across the rode path that those weary ones trod,—
A cloud-pillar by day, a flame-witness by night?
As
it guided the sire, it now gleans on the son,
As it shone in the wilderness lonely and drear,
So it burst to assure thee, Oh desolate one,
That in sorrow and exile his presence is here.
Then say sot the day of thy triumph has led,
Say not that the star of thy glory has set,
While the same holy blessings still rest on thy
head,
And the same “fire from heaven” illumines thee yet.
