ABRAHAM AND HIS GODS

Eastward he bent his eager eyes—

"Creatures of Night! false gods and frail! Take not the worship of the wise;

There is the Deity we hail;

Fountain of light and warmth and love;
He only bears our hearts above."

Yet was that One-that radiant One,
Who seemed so absolute a King,
Only ordained his round to run,
And pass like each created thing;
He rested not in noon-day prime,
But fell beneath the strength of time.

Then like one laboring without hope
To bring his toil to fruitful end,
And powerless to discern the scope
Whereto his aspirations tend,
Still Abraham prayed by night and day,
"God! teach me to what God to pray!

Nor long in vain; an inward Light

Arose, to which the Sun is pale;

The knowledge of the Infinite,

The sense of Truth that must prevail;—

The presence of the only Lord,

By angels and by men adored.

4I

LORD HOUGHTON (RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES)

II

HYMN

Genesis xii. 2-3

Where'er the Patriarch pitched his tent,
He built an altar to his God,
And sanctified, where'er he went,

With faith and prayer, the ground he trod.

Through all the East, for riches famed,Heaven's gifts, he set his heart on none; Nor, when the dearest was reclaimed, Withheld his son, his only son.

Wherefore, in blessing, he was blest;
Friendless, the friend of God became;
Long-wandering, everywhere found rest;
Long-childless, nations bear his name.

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My God, what Thou hast made my home,
Let me Thy sanctuary make;
My God, if called by Thee to roam,
Glad may I all for Thee forsake.

Thy law, Thy love be my delight;
Whate'er I do, or think, or am;
Walking by faith, and not by sight,
Be a true child of Abraham.

JAMES MONTGOMERY

DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH 43

12

THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH

Genesis xix. 24

O dread was the night when o'er Sodom's wide plain The fire of heaven descended;

For all that then bloomed, shall ne'er bloom there

again,

For man hath his Maker offended.

The midnight of terror and woe hath passed by,
The death-spirit's pinions are furled;

But the sun, as it beams clear and brilliant on high,
Turns from Sodom's dark, desolate world.

Here lies but that glassy, that death-stricken lake, As in mock'ry of what had been there;

The wild bird flies far from the dark nestling brake Which waves its scorched arms in the air.

In that city the wine-cup was brilliantly flowing, Joy held her high festival there;

Not a fond bosom dreaming (in luxury glowing), Of the close of that night of despair.

For the bride her handmaiden the garland was wreathing;

At the altar the bridegroom was waiting;

But vengeance impatiently round them was breath

ing,

And Death at that shrine was their greeting.

But the wine-cup is empty, and broken it lies;
The lip which it foamed for is cold:

For the red wing of Death o'er Gomorrah now flies,
And Sodom is wrapped in its fold.

The bride now is wedded-the bridegroom is Death,
With his cold, damp, and grave-like hand;
Her pillow is ashes, the slime-weed her wreath,
And Heaven's flames her nuptial band.

And near to that cold, that desolate sea,
Whose fruits now to ashes are turned,

Not a fresh-blooming flower, not one budding tree
Now grows where those cities were burned.

LUCRETIA DAVIDSON

13

HAGAR IN THE WILDERNESS

Genesis xxi. 14-19

The morning broke. Night stole upon the clouds With a strange beauty. Earth received again Its garment of a thousand dyes; and leaves, And delicate blossoms, and the painted flowers, And everything that bendeth to the dew And stirreth with the daylight, lifted up Its beauty to the breath of that sweet morn.

All things are dark to sorrow; and the light And loveliness and fragrant air were sad To the dejected Hagar. The moist earth Was pouring odors from its spicy pores,

HAGAR IN THE WILDERNESS

45

And the young birds were singing as if life
Were a new thing to them; but music came
Upon her ear like discord, and she felt
That pang of the unreasonable heart,
That, bleeding amid things it loved so well,
Would have some sign of sadness as they pass.
She stood at Abraham's tent. Her lips were pressed
Till the blood started; and the wandering veins
Of her transparent forehead were swelled out
As if her pride would burst them. Her dark eye
Was clear and tearless, and the light of heaven,
Which made its language legible, shot back
From her long lashes as it had been flame.

Her noble boy stood by her, with his hand
Clasped in her own, and his round, delicate feet,
Scarce trained to balance on the tented floor,
Sandalled for journeying. He had looked up
Into his mother's face, until he caught

The spirit there, and his young heart was swelling
Beneath his dimpled bosom, and his form
Straightened up proudly in his tiny wrath,

As if his light proportions would have swelled,
Had they but matched his spirit, to the man.

Why bends the Patriarch as he cometh now
Upon his staff so wearily? His beard
Is low upon his breast, and his high brow,
So written with the converse of his God,
Beareth the swollen vein of agony.

His lip is quivering, and his wonted step
Of vigor is not there; and, though the morn