“No Man Knoweth His Sepulchre”

WHEN he who, from the scourge of wrong,

Aroused the Hebrew tribes to fly,

Saw the fair region promised long,

And bowed him on the hills to die;

God made his grave, to men unknown,

Where Moab’s rocks a vale infold,

And laid the aged seer alone,

To slumber while the world grows old.

Thus still, whene’er the good and just

Close the dim eye on life and pain,

Heaven watches o’er their sleeping dust

Till the pure spirit comes again.

Though nameless, trampled, and forgot,

His servant’s humble ashes lie,

Yet God has marked and scaled the spot,

To call its inmate to the sky.