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I watched the sun with lurid splendor set,
While in the distance dim one tall, dark spire
Appeared, a sharp and slender barb of jet,
Transfixing a vast globe of golden fire.
Tearing the toyal purple of his shroud,
It seemed to pierce his glory through and through,
For crimson poured along the waves of cloud,
And trickled slowly down the western blue.


And then I thought of this bright world of ours,
Finished and faultless from the hand of God,
Ere sin had left a blight on Eden-bowers,
Or blood a stain upon the vernal sod,
Ere Satan's arrow--like a barb of jet--
Had wounded one among the shining spheres,
And left it scarred, with Crime's dark signet set,
A crimson seal upon our mortal years.


While yet I gazed a heavy surge of cloud,
Down to the lurid West, was swiftly hurled,
And overwhelmed its glory, as a shroud
Of stormy waters whelmed our sinful world.
Then from the twilight's purple deeps afar
White flakes of cloud like silver banners streamed,
And up above that dark waste rose one star
Pure as Christ's love upon a world redeemed.