Flocks that whiten all the plain;
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;

Clouds that drop their freshening dews;
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse;

All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the smiling land;
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores;
These to Thee, our God! we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Yet should rising whirlwinds tear
From its stem the ripening ear;
Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot
Drop her green, untimely fruit;
Should the vine put forth no more,
Nor the olive yield her store;

Though the sickening flocks should fall,
And the herds desert the stall;

Should Thine altered hand restrain

Vernal showers and latter rain;
Blast each opening bud of joy,
And the rising crops destroy;

Still to Thee our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing's flown,
Love Thee-for Thyself alone.

ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD

68

RUTH'S ANSWER TO NAOMI

Ruth i. 16-17

Entreat me not, I must not hear,
Mark but this sorrow-beaming tear;
Thy answer's written deeply now

On this warm cheek and clouded brow;
'Tis gleaming o'er this eye of sadness,
Which only near thee sparkles gladness.

The hearts most dear to us are gone,
And thou and I are left alone;
Where'er thou wanderest, I will go;
I'll follow thee through joy or woe;
Should'st thou to other countries fly,
Where'er thou lodgest, there will I.

Thy people shall my people be,
And to thy God I'll bend the knee;
Whither thou fliest, will I fly,
And where thou diest, I will die;
And the same sod which pillows thee
Shall freshly, sweetly bloom for me.

LUCRETIA DAVIDSON

69

BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST

Daniel v

It is night. Nature has bowed to the inevitable, and, save the low moaning of the far-off sea, the lisping leaves awakened by the night-breezes, and perhaps an occasional gurgling of the gliding Euphrates, all is hushed and still.

But what of man? Behold! from the towering domes of the city of Babylon, myriads of lights gleam and flash defiance to the darkness and to the watchful stars, which so lovingly bend over all. The hum and quiver of excitement prevail in every dwelling, but in the royal palace are gathered the proudest of the proud, the gayest of the gay, the lords of the land. All the pomp and splendor, all the wealth and the luxuries that lands e'er produced are lavished upon them. Can words paint the grandeur of the scene? High on the throne, in jewelled robes, King Belshazzar reigns, while brawny slaves bow in his presence in trembling adoration. Gorgeously apparelled lords are grouped around him, while before them all the bounties of the earth are spread. The rich perfume of spices mingles with that of rare flowers. Wave upon wave of thrilling music echoes and re-echoes in that massive hall and swells far out into the night. It is King Belshazzar's midnight feast.

Louder grows the revelry of laugh and song. Recklessly they quaff the rare wine, yet pride is not satisfied.

"Let music swell. Let flowers fade and die. All hearts beat with happiness. No power in earth or sky can stay our mirth. Bring forth the cups of gold and silver from the temple. Drink from their sacred depths the foaming beverage. Fill those consecrated censers with sacrifices to Babylon's gods. I am King Belshazzar. I fear not Israel's God." Forth from the temple held so sacred by the conquered and fallen Israelites, from within that consecrated Holy of holies where God Himself had reigned, those sacred vessels are brought and desecrated by honoring the gods of the heathen. The All-Seeing Eye beholds their mocking festivities, and hears their derisive shouts of victory as those hallowed vessels, so sanctified to His use, are polluted by unholy sacrifices.

Ah! what is this? O'er that glittering and defiant scene, a shadow, slight, yet chilling, seems to fall. The lights, but a moment ago so brilliant, now flicker and dart like greedy tongues toward yon far corner, where on the wall appears a dark, rapidly moving object--a human hand. Swiftly and silently it traces word after word of language all unknown. Spellbound, with bloodless lips and bated breath, they gaze with sickening terror. A silence has fallen, so dread, so full of awe, that the very foaming of the wine, now so utterly ignored, is audible. The rich perfume of the flowers only makes the still

ness more oppressive, yet they dare not move. As if carved from marble, they watch the awful vision, until, as silently and as swiftly as it came, it vanishes, but the writing remains in bold and distinct characters with meaning as fathomless as the starry skies.

Then there are choking gasps and quaking limbs in that splendid hall. The mirth and song so thrillingly sweet are hushed, and only hoarse whispers break the chilly stillness. The throng, but one short hour ago so merry, so fearless, now start at their own shadows. What of King Belshazzar who fears not God or man? The wild, horrorstricken faces turned to him for help meet the same fixed marble stare in his own. His trembling hand refuses to hold the golden vessel half-raised to his lips, and it falls-its ring reverberating in hollow tones-"The time is come! The time is come!" Listen! the king speaks: "Summon immediately the wise men of Babylon; let them unroll this mystery; their gifted minds can pierce the thickest veil."

They come. They start and shake as did their fellows at sight of those strange words of fire. They try to speak, but are as powerless as infants in a lion's paw. They have failed. What will the king do now? The talent of the land has failed him. Oh! if those flaming letters would but vanish, but they gleam with renewed force, burning like firebrands into the king's soul.

What will he do? Where will he go for succor? Is there no one?—Yes, the queen, prostrating her