The Destroying Angel

HE stopped at last

And a mild look of sacred pity cast

Down on the sinful land where he was sent

To inflict the tardy punishment.

“Ah! yet,” said he, “Yet, stubborn king, repent,

Whilst thus armed I stand

Ere the keen sword of God fill my commanded hand.

Suffer but thyself and thine to live

Who would alas! believe

That it for man,” said he

“So hard to be forgiven should be,

And yet for God so easy to forgive!”

Through Egypt’s wicked land his march he took,

And as he marched, the sacred first-born strook

Of every womb; none did he spare,

None, from the meanest beast to Pharaoh’s purple heir.

Whilst health and strength and gladness doth possess

The festal Hebrew cottages;

The blest destroyer comes not there

To interrupt the sacred cheer:

Upon their doors he read and understood.

God’s protection writ in blood;

Well was he skilled in the character divine,

And though he passed by it in haste,

He bowed and worshipped as he passed

The mighty mystery through its humble sign.