Classic Poem

O PUREST Symbol of the Eternal Son!
Who dwelt in thee, as in some sacred shrine,
To draw hearts after thee, and make them thine;
Not parent only by that light was won,
And brethren crouch'd who had in wrath begun,
But heathen pomp abased her at the sign
And the hid Presence of a guest divine,
Till a king heard, and all thou bad'st was done.
Then was fulfill'd Nature's dim augury,
That “Wisdom, clad in visible form, would be
So fair, that all must love and bow the knee;”
Lest it might seem, what time the Substance came,
Truth lack'd a sceptre, when It but laid by
Its beaming front, and bore a willing shame