Hark! the voice of mourning soundeth,
From the Gibeonitish plain;
'Tis the voice of one despairing-
Rizpah mourning for her slain.
She hath spread the fearful sackcloth
On the bare and flinty stones:
There she sitteth, morn and evening,
Wailing for her murdered sons.
Nor chill night nor sultry noon‐tide
Can her lonely vigil break;
Heedless of the world's enchantments,
Doth the mother watch and wake.
Sackcloth round her form is woven-
It but speaks the grief beneath-
Grief that form and spirit wasteth
As the sun the snowy wreath.
'Tis the mother there that mourneth
For the idols of her soul:
'Tis the mother's heart that bursteth
All the bonds that men control.
Ye who ever scorn the lessons
Taught in language from above,
Heed the picture here presented-
Witness here a mother's love!
The Blue Letter Bible ministry and the BLB Institute hold to the historical, conservative Christian faith, which includes a firm belief in the inerrancy of Scripture. Since the text and audio content provided by BLB represent a range of evangelical traditions, all of the ideas and principles conveyed in the resource materials are not necessarily affirmed, in total, by this ministry.
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