The Plagues Of Egypt; Or, God's Providence Magnified In The Care Of His Chosen.

When darkness over Egypt reigned,     A darkness to be felt,     Light sweetly shone round Goshen still,     The tents where Israel dwelt.     Awestruck, the Egyptians silent lay,     They rose not from their place;     God's finger had been o'er their land,     And left a fearful trace.     The very idols which they served     A gloom around them threw,     The stream they worshipped turned to blood,     The sun his light withdrew.     But Pharaoh's heart was hardened still,     He let not Israel go     Until Jehovah, King of kings,     Struck the last fearful blow.     The first-born on the kingly throne,     The first-born in the hall,     God sent his awful mandate forth,     And death passed over all.     No house remained in this proud land     Which mourned not for its dead,     And every street was filled with gloom,     And every heart with dread.     At midnight was the message sent     It was an awful hour,     Proclaiming man's impotency     And God's eternal power.     The mighty monarch, struck with awe,     Dismissed the people then;     Contending with Omnipotence     He felt indeed was vain.     And how were Israel employed     When light around them shone?     They then prepared the paschal lamb,     And stood with sandals on;     Staves in their hands, loins girded too,     They waited the command     To throw their loosened shackles off,     And seek the promised land.     But first they ate the passover,     And freely sprinkled round     The blood of an unblemished lamb,     In whom no spot was found.     And the destroying angel passed     Harmless o'er every door     Whose side-posts and whose lintels, too,     Faith's striking symbol bore.     Now let us pause and ask our hearts     If we have aught to learn,     If very many teaching things     We cannot here discern?     Is there not "darkness to be felt"     In Egypt at this hour?     And does she not refuse to bow     Before Jehovah's power?     And oh! when God's own Israel     Would break the oppressor's chain,     Does she approach His sacred throne     And supplicate in vain?     Ah, no! upon the captive still     Is poured a flood of light,     While he prepares for better worlds     To take his joyous flight.     His bonds are burst, he only waits     The omnipotent command     To journey forth, his armor's on,     His staff within his hand.     Not settled down in carnal ease,     This world is not his home,     A pilgrim and a stranger here,     He seeks for one to come.     Christ is his holy passover,     He has a part in Him;     For he applies his blood, in faith,     To purify from sin.     But oh! with very bitter herbs     It must be eaten still;     Suffering is yet the lot of those     Who do their Master's will.     And let the Christian not forget,     Israel was bid to stay     Within the shelter of the tent     Until the opening day.     And God is now his people's tent,     In Him may we abide;     Then though the faith will oft be proved,     The patience oft be tried,     An hour of sweet release will come,     And all the pilgrim band,     By flame and cloud alternate led,     Attain the promised land;     And wearing there the crown of joy,     And carrying, too, the palm,     Eternally ascribe the praise     To God and to the Lamb.