The stormy night is dark before the dawn, Dismal and overcast; But rosy on the mountain's eastern lawn Faith's eye beholds the heavenly banners borne; He comes!—He comes at last! The lie is loudest ere the Truth's revealed: The night is nearly past: Seek they a sign? then say, "The sign is sealed,— The lame, the blind, the sinners all are healed:" He comes!—He comes at last! The flowerets, folded in their secret cell, Heed not the stormy blast: His thoughts they are: they hear his tread, and tell From lip to lip, from nectar-cup to bell, "He comes!—He comes at last!" "He comes," said we? this was his word sublime Ere from our sight he passed, "Lo I am with you till the end of time:" Then we—though deaf to reason as to rhyme— Know him at last—at last!
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