SAD was the Mother of Mankind to see
The sad fulfilment of the primitive curse;
The gentle babe she was so fond to nurse,
Her duteous Abel, that would clasp her knee,
So meekly heark'ning to the history
Of the sweet hours his parents pass'd, before
They learn'd of good and ill the fatal lore,
Or pluck'd the fruit of that forbidden tree.—
What is he now? A helpless lump of earth!
Nay, thou poor Mother, do not so distrust
The Lord, that raised thy husband from the dust,
For he shall give to thee another birth,
A holy babe, whose seed shall save his brother, And give back Abel to their common Mother.
HE walk'd with God, and like the breath of prayer,
His earthly substance melted all away :
So much he loved the Lord, his mortal clay
Abolish'd quite, or blent with pervious air,
Soft as a rainbow, mix'd with things that were
And are not. Surely God did love him well,
And he loved God so much, he could not dwell
Where God was not. The world was blank and bare;
He was most wretched, for he could not love.
But the good Lord took pity on his woe:
For woe it is, with all the heart above,
To walk a heartless corpse on earth below.
He faded from the earth, and was unseen;
A thought of God was all that he had been.
WHEN Abram was a boy the years were long,
As ours might be, did we for every hour
Extract the good and realise the power,
And train the notes to everlasting song.
And Abram was a comely youth, and strong,
And nimbly 'mid the silky reeds he trod,
When he resolved-" the Lord shall be my God,"
And knew the only God can do no wrong.
Had he not felt that God is God alone,
As holy, as almighty, and all-seeing,
Foul were his sin, that would with blood atone,
And court the favour of unselfish Being.
But long experience taught him God was true,
And could the life he took by grace renew.
LONE in the wilderness, her child and she,
Sits the dark beauty, and her fierce-eyed boy;
A heavy burden, and no winsome toy
To such as her, a hanging babe must be.
A slave without a master-wild, not free,
With anger in her heart! and in her face
Shame for foul wrong and undeserved disgrace,
Poor Hagar mourns her lost virginity!
Poor woman, fear not-God is everywhere;
Thy silent tears, thy thirsty infant's moan,
Are known to Him, whose never-absent care
Still wakes to make all hearts and souls his own;
He sends an angel from beneath his throne
To cheer the outcast in the desert bare.
THE child of promise, spared by God's command,
He grew and ripen'd, till his noon of life,
As days were then, deserved and claim'd a wife;
But she must be no toy of faithless land;
So the good steward o'er the thirsty sand
His prescient camels follows to the well,
Where the sweet daughter of old Bethuel
Supplies his need with white and courteous hand.
And oh what meeter than a maid so fair
To be the answer to that good man's prayer?
And then how sweetly did the Spirit move her, Without a word of maidenly delay,
Or coy petition for a farewell day,
To quit her home, and seek an unseen lover!
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