The Fifty-First Chapter of Isaiah, Part 4

Awake, Jerusalem, awake,
Thou that hast drunk the trembling cup,
The slumber from thy spirit shake,
Beneath thy mighty woes stand up.

Thou that hast drunk the deadly wine
Of pain, astonishment, and fear,
The last sad dregs of wrath Divine;
Awake, and see thy Saviour near.

Of all her sons whom she brought forth,
Of all her sons whom Sion bred,
Not one can help her by his worth,
Not one can his weak mother lead.

Not one attempts with pious care
To guide her in the paths of peace:
Ah! who shall Stan's burden bear?
Ah! who shall bid thy sufferings cease?

Famine, and sword, have laid thee waste;
Sin, the destroying angel's sword
Throughout thy desolate land hath past,
Join'd with a famine of the word.

By whom shall I thy sorrows cheer?
As a wild bull thy sons lie bound,
And struggling in the hunter's snare,
And bellowing through their spirit's wound.

Fainting in all the streets they lie,
O'erwhelm'd beneath their guilty load,
Rebuked by Him they dared defy,
Full of the fury of thy God.

Wherefore to thee the Lord hath said,
(Opprest and drunk with wrath Divine,)
The Lord thy God, who deigns to plead
His people's desperate cause, and thine;

Lo! I thy soul have freely loved,
I have display'd My mercy's power,
The cup out of thy hands removed,
And thou shalt never taste it more.

Mine indignation's dreadful cup
The portion of thy foes shall be,
They, they shall all the dregs drink up:
The cup of blessing is for thee.

Thee, Sion, thee: so long compell'd
To stoop at the oppressor's frown,
Enslaved by man, and forced to yield,
When sin, or Satan, cried, Bow down.

Poor vassal! to rebel afraid,
Thy baseness bow'd to every lust,
As clay thou hast thy body laid,
And mix'd thy spirit with the dust.

But I, the righteous Lord, on all
That tread thee down will vengeance take,
My fury on thy sin shall fall,
Mine arm an end of sin shall make.

Its being with its power destroy,
The inward stumbling-block remove,
And fill thee with unfading joy,
And crown thee with eternal love.