The bright tears quiver in thy pleading eyes,
And now fond thoughts arise,

And silver cords again to earth have won me;
And like a vine thou claspest my full heart-
How shall I hence depart?

66

How the lonely paths retrace where thou wert playing

So late, along the mountains, at my side?

And I, in joyous pride,

By every place of flowers my course delaying,

Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,
Beholding thee so fair!

"And oh! the home whence thy bright smile hath parted!

Will it not seem as if the sunny day

Turned from its door away?

While through its chambers wandering, wearyhearted,

I languish for thy voice, which past me still
Went like a singing rill.

“Under the palm-trees thou no more shalt meet me, When from the fount at evening I return,

With the full water-urn;

Nor will thy sleep's low dove-like breathings greet

me,

As 'midst the silence of the stars I wake,

And watch for thy dear sake.

"And thou-will slumber's dewy cloud fall round

thee,

Without thy mother's hand to smooth thy bed?

Wilt thou not vainly spread

Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee,

To fold my neck, and lift up in thy fear

A cry which none shall hear?

What have I said, my child?-Will He not hear

thee,

Who the young ravens heareth from their nest?

Shall He not guard thy rest,

And, in the hush of holy midnight near thee,
Breathe o'er thy soul, and fill its dreams with joy?
Thou shalt sleep soft, my boy!

"I give thee to thy God-the God that gave thee,
A wellspring of deep gladness to my heart!
And precious as thou art,

And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee,
My own, my beautiful, my undefiled,

And thou shalt be His child.

"Therefore, farewell!-I go-my soul may fail me. As the hart panteth for the water-brooks, Yearning for thy sweet looks

But thou, my first-born, droop not, nor bewail me; Thou in the shadow of the Rock shalt dwell,

The Rock of Strength.-Farewell."

FELICIA D. HEMANS

41

SAUL AND DAVID

I Samuel xvi. 23

Deep was the furrow in the royal brow,
When David's hand, lightly as vernal gales
Rippling the brook of Kedron, skimmed the lyre:
He sung of Jacob's youngest born, the child
Of his old age, sold to the Ishmaelite;
His exaltation to the second power

In Pharaoh's realm; his brethren thither sent;
Suppliant they stood before his face, well-known,
Unknowing, till Joseph fell upon the neck
Of Benjamin, his mother's son, and wept.
Unconsciously the warlike shepherd paused;
But when he saw, down the yet-quivering string,
The tear-drop trembling glide, abashed, he checked,
Indignant at himself, the bursting flood,

And, with a sweep impetuous, swept the chords.
From side to side his hands transversely glance,
Like lightning 'thwart a stormy sea; his voice
Arises 'mid the clang, and straightway calms
The harmonious tempest to a solemn swell,
Majestical, triumphant, for he sings
Of Arad's mighty host by Israel's arm
Subdued; of Israel through the desert led
He sings; of him who was their leader, called
By God Himself, from keeping Jethro's flock,
To be a ruler o'er the chosen race.

Kindles the eye of Saul; his arm is poised;
Harmless the javelin quivers in the wall.

JAMES GRAHAME

42

SONG OF TRIUMPH

I Samuel xvii. 52

Prepare! your festal rites prepare!
Let your triumphs rend the air!
Idol gods shall reign no more;

We the living God adore!

Let heathen hosts on human helps repose,
Since Israel's God has routed Israel's foes.

Let remotest nations know
Proud Goliath's overthrow.
Fallen, Philistia, is thy trust;
Dagon mingles with the dust!

Who fears the Lord of Glory need not fear
The brazen armor or the lifted spear.

See, the routed squadrons fly!

Hark! their clamors rend the sky!

Blood and carnage stain the field!

See! the vanquished nations yield!

Dismay and terror fill the frightened land,

While conquering David routs the trembling band. Juto.

Lo, upon the tented field,

Royal Saul has thousands killed!

Lo, upon th'ensanguined plain,

David has ten thousand slain!

Let mighty Saul his vanquished thousands tell,
While tenfold triumphs David's victories swell!

HANNAH MORE

43

SONG OF VICTORY FOR THE DEATH OF GOLIATH

Strike with joy the wild harp's string,

God, O Israel, is your King!

We have slain our deadliest foe;
David's arm hath laid him low.

Saul hath oft his thousands slain,
His trophies have bedecked the plain;
But David's tens of thousands lie
On fields of battle, mounted high.

Sound the trumpet, strike the string,
Loud let the song of victory ring;
Wreathe with glory David's brow,-
He hath laid Goliath low.

Mark him on yon crimson plain;
He is conquered, he is slain;
He who lately rose so high,-
Scoffed at man, and braved the sky.

Strike with joy the wild harp's string,
God, O Israel, is your King!

We have slain our deadliest foe;
David's arm hath laid him low.

LUCRETIA DAVIDSON