A King Has Sought At Midnight Hour Poem by Janet Hamilton

A King has sought at midnight hour
The sorceress in her cell,
And bids invoke the Prophet's shade,
His coming doom to tell.
He bows before the spectral form,
He speaks in anguish sore-
'God is departed from me,
And answereth me no more.'


Dark words-how pregnant with despair!
How fraught with hopeless woe!
Stern spake the spirit-seer-'What hope
When God He is thy foe?
And wherefore seek to know thy doom,
For this thou knew'st before?
' 'God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more!'


'The word which God hath spoke by me
He hath confirmed and done-
He rends the kingdom from thy hand;
His own anointed one,
Even David, he shall fill thy throne;
Thy reign, thy life is o'er-
'God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more!'


'Since thou obey'dst not God, nor didst
His high behest fulfil,
He gives thy host, thy sons, thy life,
Up to the enemies' will.
Thy soul, ere midnight glooms again,
Shall wing th' eternal shore.
'God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more.''


He faints, he falls, on earth he lies,
That stately, peerless form,
Which oft had tower'd in Israel's van
And ruled in battles' storm.
Oh kingly oak! the thunder fires
Have scathed thine inmost core.
'God is departed from thee,
And answereth thee no more.'


Who runs may read this awful truth,
In lines of lightning traced,
The spoken, written Word of God,
Though trampled, scorn'd, defaced
By men of sin and pride, the earth
Shall burn, the heavens decay,
Ere Word of God, to man reveal'd,
Shall fail or pass away.