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 the 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
And Abraham stood rebuked before his God.
The hand of time was heavy on the brow
Of Abraham, for he had walked with God
Full many years, and been in all things bless'd;
Still was he not prepared to lay the frail
Rest of his life down at the feet of Him
He worshipped, and with his belov'd Sarah
Repose his ashes in the tomb at Hebron;
For yet his son, the child of his old age,
The given and restored of God,
Was wifeless and alone.
Then called he to his side the tried servant
Of his house and said, “ Put thou thy hand
Beneath my thigh, and I will make thee swear
Thou wilt not take a wife unto my son
Among the daughters of the Canaanites;
But from that country that was once is still—
Mine own, and from among my kindred, where
In my father's house my happy youth was passed;
There shalt thou take a wife unto my son.
Go! the Angel of the Lord will go before
And prosper thee."
'Twas eve in Syria, and the city's wall
Was bathed in floods of radiant glory;
'Midst the sweet sounds of the declining day
Was girlish laughter, and the shepherds' call
To the returning flocks; and ancient story
Tells 'twas the hour when maidens wend their way
Unto the neighboring wells-the city's daughters-
And in short respite from the sun-scorched day
Pass merrily an idle hour away,
And fill their pitchers from the deep cool waters.
Without the city gates, their shaggy knees
In grateful contact with the cooling sand,
Were grouped at sunset kneeling camels ten.
Their long-enduring thirst yet unappeased,
They patiently await the slow command
To free their burdens and unloose their trammels;
While, heeding not their needs, their leader stood,—
The faithful servitor of Abraham,-
And thus with fervor prayed the reverent man To Abraham's God the promise to make good: “Behold me at the well; turn not away
Thy face, for Thou hast led me to this brink.
Now be Thou still my guide; may it please Thee
That to the damsel unto whom I say,
'Pray set thy pitcher down that I may drink,'
And who shall answer, Drink, and it shall be
My task to feed thy camels, too,' may she
The woman be, appointed to Thy servant.
Grant this response to my petition fervent,
So shall the maid be Isaac's destiny."
And ere the words were spoken in his heart,
Behold! a damsel from the gate came out:
Rebekah, Bethuel's virgin daughter,
And she was very fair. He stood apart
Until she filled her pitcher; then, in doubt,
He said, "Let me, I pray thee, drink a little water."
The maiden lowered the pitcher to her hand
And hasted, saying, "Drink, my lord; I will
Draw more, until thy camels have their fill:
Then filled the trough, refreshing all his band.
And the man, wondering at her, held his peace
Until the caravan was given water,
Then said, "I pray thee, tell, who is thy sire?"
For yet he knew not if his search should cease;
And she said, answering him, "I am the daughter
Of Bethuel, son to Nahor." Nigher
To her he drew, and bending to the sod,
The fair descendant hailed of Abraham's line
As Isaac's wife. He saw the hand divine,
And bowing down his head, he worshipped God.
And her people blessed Rebekah, saying,
Thou art our sister. Be thou the mother
Of many millions!" And she arose, she
And her damsels, and rode upon the camels.
And she went forth from among her kindred
And from her country, pre-ordained of God
To become the mother of nations.
JACOB'S PILLOW
In the sea of Rabbinical lore,
Is a mystical legend of yore,
Of Jacob, who wandered afar.
In anguish of spirit, sore-pressed,
He lay on the desert to rest,
'Neath the light of a tremulous star.
And the moss-covered stones that he saw
Grew still in their wonder and awe,
That the father of Israel's race
Should seek in the gloom of the plain
Surcease of his anguish and pain,
To lay himself down in that place.
Then they clamored in audible tones,
In the mystical language of stones,
Each claiming pre-eminent right
To be chosen as Israel's bed,
To pillow the wanderer's head
As he lay in the desert that night.
Each stone to the other laid claim
To the honor and marvellous fame,
As, contending, they scattered his way;
But the presence of Jacob was there,
Like the sanctified incense of prayer,
And in rapturous silence they lay.
But a marvellous destiny-true
To the grandeur of Israel's few
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