When Nehemiah rode into the dark,And stones of ruin cumbered his advance,And old localities were hard to mark,Methinks he spent some moments in a tranceOf sounds from past and future -- Abraham's footWith Isaac's on Moriah; then the sighOf Moses, beyond Jordan doomed to die,So near the soil wherein his heart had root:'Ay!' thought he, 'and my own fond suit was metBy earthly and by heavenly sympathy!'Then came sweet tones from far Gennesaret,A plash, as from the casting of a net,The noise as of a Cross grounded and setHard by him, and a loud and lonely cry!
Nehemiah's Night Ridewritten by
Turner Charles (Tennyson)
© Turner Charles (Tennyson)