69. Hope

{127}
WE are not children of a guilty sire,
    Since Noe stepp'd from out his wave-toss'd home,
    And a stern baptism flush'd earth's faded bloom.
Not that the heavens then clear'd, or cherub's fire
From Eden's portal did at once retire;
    But thoughts were stirr'd of Him who was to
        come,
    Whose rainbow hues so streak'd the o'ershadowing
        gloom,
That faith could e'en that desolate scene admire.
The Lord has come and gone; and now we wait
The second substance of the deluge type,
When our slight ark shall cross a molten surge;
So, while the gross earth melts, for judgment ripe,
Ne'er with its haughty turrets to emerge,
We shall mount up to Eden's long-lost gate.

Valletta
.
February 5, 1833.

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Newman Reader — Works of John Henry Newman
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