Mordecai

Esther vii. 1–10; viii. 15.

“NOW say, my queen,” the monarch cries,

“What boon dost thou demand?

Be it the half of my kingdom’s worth,

’Tis given to thy hand.”

“O king, had all my race been sold

To bondage and to shame,

No murmur from my lip had passed

My sovereign’s deed to blame;

“But sold to slaughter, doomed to death,

I pour my humble prayer;

Oh, let thy royal clemency

My guiltless kindred spare!”

“And who, my queen, hath dared the deed?”

“Behold, our ruthless foe!

’Tis Haman whets the murd’rous steel

And aims the fatal blow.”

The king is wroth: the traitor shrinks;

The stern command is given:

Bound and condemned they bear him forth

To feed the fowls of heaven.

A gallows, by his impious hand

For Mordecai designed,

Receives the tyrant’s struggling form,

And gives him to the wind.

Haman, thy wife hath well foretold

The dark intent will fail;

Against Jehovah’s chosen fold

Thou never couldst prevail.

Who comes? His costly garments wave

In many a purple fold,

Blest with the purest white; he wears

A crown of burnished gold.

It is the Jew—’tis Mordecai,

Type of his ransomed race;

For shame is double honor given,

And glory for disgrace.

Such, Israel, is thy future lot,

Purged in refining fires;

Queens shall thy nursing mothers be,

And kings thy nursing sires.

And thou, in means and mercies rich,

Loved Albion, happy land,

For Judah bend the suppliant knee,

And work with willing hand.

Oh, help thine elder brother’s need,

Bid him thy blessings share,

Nor let him perish at thy gate

While thou hast bread to spare!

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