  Not on couch of ivory, Cushioned, curtained, daintily,— But upon the flinty ground, The dread wilderness around, Jacob sleeps, afar, alone,— And his pillow is a stone! Ah! poor friendless fugitive, What can now thy birth-right give? Pitiless the stars look down, Like his brother’s haunting frown;— In his heart are many fears,— In his eyes are bitter tears; Even in his sleep he groans; Even as he sleeps he moans, “God be merciful to me! Pity, Lord, my misery.” Thy repentance and thy pain. Wonderful the grace divine! Thine the covenant,—still thine, Sealed to Abraham of old,— Bearing blessing manifold Unto ages yet unborn, Through thee, desolate, forlorn. Ay! e’en now to him is given Token of the love of Heaven; For behold! about him stand Ministers of God’s right hand: Angels excellent in might, Radiant in robes of light;— And, before his ravished eyes, Lo, the ladder to the skies! Making all the midnight bright,— Bringing hope and healing in, To the spirit stained with sin,— Driving grief and gloom away, With the breaking of the day,— Wakening every tender chord With the glory of the Lord! Passed the Vision;—it is dawn; Shining sons of light are gone;— Wakes the servant of the Lord, Wondering, at His gracious word;— From his lips in language meet, Faith’s confession, grateful, sweet:— “Surely God was in this place, And upon me shone His face!” Where the gate of heaven he found, Buildeth he with pious care, Joining praise with humble prayer, From the stones of that blest place, A memorial to God’s grace:— “Bethel, Lord, its name shall be,— Covenant ’twixt Thee and me.” Glory to Thy holy Name,— Thou, O Lord, art still the same! Angel-guides our way attend; Angel-guards our souls defend;— We, too, know the blessed ground Where the shining gate was found:— Trysting-place of earth and heaven,— Let the same sweet name be given:— Bethel, through the ages past,— Bethel still, while time shall last; Bethel, then, its dear name be,— Bethel, through eternity!
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