| |
| 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, | 5 |
| 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 | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| Assuaged their pain, and brought him meat. | |
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| 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; | 20 |
| 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 | 25 |
| 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; | 30 |
| 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; | 35 |
| 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. | 40 |
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| 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, | 45 |
| 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— | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| 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; | 60 |
| 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? | |
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| “If I, these hundred years, have borne | 65 |
| 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!” | 70 |
| Then towards the Voice, with trembling steps he trod, | |
| And Abraham stood rebuked before his God. | |
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