'Saint John the Baptist' (poem) written by William Drummond

The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King

Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,

Among the savage brood the woods forth bring,

Which he more harmless found than man, and mild.


His food was locusts, and what there doth spring,

With honey from that virgin hives distill'd;

Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing

Made him appear, long since from earth exiled.


There burst he forth: 'All ye whose hopes rely

On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn,

Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!'

- Who listen'd to his voice, obey'd his cry?


Only the echoes, which he made relent,

Rung from their flinty caves, Repent! Repent! 

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