And they hailed him with rare blessing
For all peoples richly stored,
Father of the faithful, elect
Friend of God, Almighty Lord.
And he sojourned 'mid the people
With high heart and weighty arm,
Wise to rein their wandering worship,
Strong to shield their homes from harm.
And fat Nile's proud Pharaohs owned him,
As a strong, God-favored man,
Like Osiris casting broadly
Largess to the human clan.
And he lived long years a witness
To a pure high-thoughted creed,
That in ripeness of the ages
Grew to serve our mortal need.
Not a priest and not a churchman
From all proud pretentions free,
Shepherd chief and shepherd-warrior
Human-faced like you and me:
Human-faced and human-hearted,
To the pure religion true,
Purer than the gay and sensuous
Grecian, wider than the Jew.
Common sire, whom Jew and Christian,
Turk and Arab, name and praise;
Common as the sun that shines
On East and West with brothered rays.
JOHN STUART BLACKIE.
The Tent of Abraham
THE shadows of an Eastern day
Lengthened along the sandy way,
When, toiling faint and lone,
An aged wanderer crossed the plain,
As if his every step were pain,
His every breath a groan!
Till Abraham's tent appeared in view,
And slowly towards his rest he drew.
And Abraham met his wayworn look
With pity, for the old man shook
With years at every tread;
For he the wrinkled impress bore
Of full one hundred years or more
Upon his silver head;
Then Abraham washed his aching feet,
Assuaged their pain, and brought him meat.
You should have known the burning glare Of soil and sun, and sultry air,
To tell how sweet the draught
That blessed those lips so parched and old; Oh! water-not a world of gold
Could buy that joy he quaffed!
You should have toiled the burning waste,
To taste how sweetly food can taste!
But Abraham saw with deep amaze
The old man's strange and godless ways;
For ere he bent to eat,
Nor praise nor thanks he uttered there,
Nor raised his grateful eyes in prayer
To God who sent him meat;
Sudden he sat, in eager mood,
And called no blessing on the food!
"Ownest thou not the God of Heaven, That unto thee these things hath given?"
Said Abraham in his ire;
He answered, "Five-score years I've trod,
Yet worshipped but one only God,-
The eternal God of Fire!"
And Abraham, wroth, his anger spent,
And thrust him, storming, from his tent.
An Eastern night is dread to bear—
There's fever in the sickly air,
And evils few can speak
Save those whose wandering lives have known The perils 'mid the desert thrown,
Or heard the tempest's shriek;
Yet pitiless, from out his sight,
Stern Abraham cast him to the night.
Then there was sudden awe on Night-
The pale West quivered with wild light-
The stars apart were thrown;
And all the air around the sky
Seemed like a glory hung on high,-
A gleam of worlds unknown;
And from that glory high installed,
A voice-God's voice-to Abraham called:
"Why went this stranger from thy board?"
And Abraham answered, "Know, O Lord,
That he denied Thy name;
Neither would worship Thee, nor bless;
So forth, unto the wilderness,
I drove him, in his shame!"
And God said, "If I still allow
Peace to his errors, couldst not thou?
"If I, these hundred years, have borne
The wanderer's sin, neglect, and scorn,
Yet ne'er did vengeance seek,
How is't that thou, for one poor night,
Couldst bear him not within thy sight?
Look up to Me, and speak!"
Then towards the Voice, with trembling steps he trod, And Abraham stood rebuked before his God. CHARLES SWAIN.
The Ballade of Dead Cities
WHERE are the cities of the plain?
And where the shrines of rapt Bethel?
And Calah built of Tubal-Cain?
And Shinar whence King Amraphel
Came out in arms and fought, and fell,
Decoyed into the pits of slime
By Siddim and sent sheer to hell;
Where are the cities of old time?
Where now is Karnak, that great fane,
With granite built, a miracle?
And Luxor smooth without a stain,
Whose graven scripture still we spell?
The jackal and the owl may tell;
Dark snakes around their ruins climb,
They fade like echo in a shell;
Where are the cities of old time?
And where is white Shushan, again,
Where Vashti's beauty bore the bell,
And all the Jewish oil and grain
Were brought to Mithridath to sell,
Where Nehemiah would not dwell,
Because another town sublime
Decoyed him with her oracle?
Where are the cities of old time?
Prince, with a dolorous, ceaseless knell,
Above their wasted toil and crime
The waters of oblivion swell:
Where are the cities of old time?
LONE in the wilderness, her child and she,
Sits the dark beauty, and her fierce-eyed boy.
A heavy burden and no winsome toy
To such as she, a hanging babe must be.
A slave without a master-wild, nor free,
With anger in her heart! and in her face
Shame for foul wrong and undeserved disgrace,
Poor Hagar mourns her lost virginity!
Poor woman fear not-God is everywhere;
The silent tears, thy thirsty infant's moan,
Are known to Him whose never-absent care
Still wakes to make all hearts and souls his own;
He sends an angel from beneath his throne
To cheer the outcast in the desert bare.
The Meeting of Isaac and Rebecca WHO
is this man that walketh in the field,
O Eleazer, steward to my lord?
And Eleazer answered her and said,
Daughter of Bethuel, it is other none
But my lord Isaac, son unto my lord.
Who as his wont is, walketh in the field,
In the hour of evening meditating there.
Therefore Rebekah hasted where she sat,
And from her camel 'lighting to the earth,
Sought for a veil and put it on her face.
But Isaac also, walking in the field,
Saw from afar a company that came,
Camels, and a seat as where a woman sat;
Wherefore he came and met them on the way.
Whom, when Rebekah saw, she came before
Saying, Behold the handmaiden of my lord,
Who, for my lord's sake travel from my land.
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