Their spears glittered bright in the beams of the sun;
Their banners waved far, and their high helmets shone;
And their dark plumes were toss'd on the breast of the breeze,
But the war-trumpet slumbered the slumber of peace.

He came in his glory, he came in his might,
His chariot the cloud, and his sceptre the light;
The sound of his coming was heard from afar,
Like the roar of a nation when rushing to war.

'T was the great God of Israel, riding on high,
Whose footstool is earth, and whose throne is the sky
He stood in his glory, unseen and alone,
And with letters of fire traced the tablets of stone

The eagle may soar to the sun in his might,
And the eye of the warrior flash fierce in the fight
But say, who may look upon God the Most High?
Oh, Israel! turn back from his glory, or die.

The sun in its splendour, the fire in its might,
Which devours and withers, and wastes from the sight,
Is dim to the glory which beams from his eye —
Then, Israel, turn back — Oh! return, or ye die.