The Burial of Moses

 

 

 

 

 By Nebo’s lonely mountain.
On this side Jordan’s wave.
In a vale in the land of Moab
There lies a lonely grave;
And no man knows that sepulcher,
And no man saw it e’er;
For the angels of God upturned the sod
And laid the dead man there.

That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth;
But no man heard the trampling,
Or saw the trains go forth;
Noiselessly as the daylight
Comes when the night is done,
And the crimson streak on ocean’s cheek
Grows into the great sun.

Noiselessly as the spring-time
Her crown of verdure weaves,
And all the trees on all the hills
Open their thousand leaves;
So without the sound of music,
Or voice of them that wept,
Silently down from the mountain’s crown
The great procession swept.

This was the truest warrior
That ever buckled the sword;
This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word;
And never earth’s philosopher
Traced, with his golden pen,
On the deathless page, truths half so sage
As he wrote down for men.

And hath he not high honor?-
The hillside for a pall!
To lie in state, while angels wait,
With stars for tapers tall
And the dark rock-pines like tossing plumes,
Over his bier to wave,
And God’s own hand, in that lonely land,
To lay him in the grave!

In that strange grave without a name,
Whence his uncoffin’d clay
Shall break again- O wondrous thought!
Before the judgment day,
And stand, with glory wrapped around,
On the hills he never trod,
And speak of the strife that won our life
With the Incarnate Son of God.

O lonely grave in Moab’s land!
O dark Beth-Peor’s hill!
Speak to these curious hearts of our,
And teach them to be still.
God hath His mysteries of grace,
Ways that we cannot tell,
He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep
Of Him who loved so well.
 

~Cecil Francis Alexander (Adapted)~



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