And findest thou not patience to pity him
Whom God hath pitied, waiting for the end,
Since none save He wotteth what end will come,
Or who shall find the light? Thou art rebuked!
Seek pardon, for thou hast much need to seek.”

Thereat the Angel vanished as he came;

But Abraham, with humble countenance,

Kissed reverently the heathen's hand, and spake— Leading him to the chief seat in the tent— "God pardon me as He doth pardon thee!"

SIR EDWIN ARNOLD

16

THE TENT OF ABRAHAM

The shadows of an Eastern day
Lengthened along the sandy way,
When, toiling faint and lone,
An agèd wanderer crossed the plain,
As if his every step were pain,
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

With years at every tread;
For he the wrinkled impress bore
Of full one hundred years or more

Upon his silvery head;

Then Abraham washed his aching feet,

Assuaged their pain, and brought him meat.

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;
Oh! water, not a world of gold.
Could buy the joy he quaffed!

You should have toiled the burning waste,
To know how sweetly food can taste!

But Abraham saw with deep amaze
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;
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;

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.

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,

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,—
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

trod,

And Abraham stood rebuked before his God.

CHARLES SWAIN

17

THE STORY OF REBEKAH

Genesis xxiv

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

66

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."