LAZARUS, AND OTHER POEMS 
 
LAZARUS 
 
 BY E. H. PLUMPTRE, D.D. 
 
 DEAN OF WELLS 
 
 FOURTH EDITION 
 
 GRIFFITH & FARRAN 
 
 *[SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS) 
 
 WEST CORNER, ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON 
 
 E. P. BUTTON & CO., NEW YORK 
 
 1884 
 
The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved. 
 
P3L3 
 IW 
 
 Two children, sporting by their land-locked sea, 
 
 Launch their small craft to tempt the changeful deep ; 
 He carves the prow, and trims the sails, and she 
 
 Looks on, half trembling, lest the gales that sweep 
 Too roughly whelm the priceless argosy. 
 So we, adventuring on the waves our freight, 
 
 The harvest reaped through years of many days, 
 Send forth our ship, unknowing of her fate, 
 
 Rough East of blame, or soft South- West of praise, 
 Warm sun of love, or freezing storm of hate : 
 
 So look we on, through all the shifting skies, 
 Cast forth the seed to every wave and wind, 
 
 The dim, grey distance watch with hope-lit eyes, 
 All trustful on the far-off Shore to find. 
 
 October 29, 1864. 
 
 012 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FA OB 
 
 LAZARUS. I. II I, 30 
 
 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT 51 
 
 JESUS BAR-ABBAS 7O 
 
 GOMER ... 84 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES : 
 
 I. JEHONADAB 97 
 
 II. JAAZANIAH ... 106 
 
 III. JAMES THE JUST 114 
 
 THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER 124 
 
 VIE DE JESUS 135 
 
 RIZPAH, THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH 14! 
 
 TRANSLATIONS : 
 
 I. THE SONG OF DEB6RAH 167 
 
 II. THE EARLIEST CHRISTIAN HYMN ... ... 175 
 
 HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE, &C 179 
 
 NOTES .. ... 2OI 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 THE sun was setting, and the good ship sailed 
 Into Massilia's harbour. On her prow, 
 All golden, glittering in the crimson light, 
 The Dioscuri shone. A motley crowd 
 Were mingled on the deck ; swarth figures clothed 
 In strange apparel, from the further East, 
 Bringing their spice and balm from Lebanon 
 To tempt our western beauties ; ^Ethiop boys, 
 Bound for the market, crouching side by side 
 With blue-eyed Thracians; merchants with their 
 
 wares, 
 
 The wools of famed Miletus, and the dyes 
 Of Thyatira, noble in their hues, 
 As is the purple ocean when the sun, 
 Sinking in glory, flushes all the waves ; 
 The woven goat's hair from Ancyra's loom, 
 And silver shrines of Artemis, and figs 
 From Smyrna's hills, and honey from the slopes 
 Of famed Hymettus, with its scent of thyme ; 
 
 B 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 And strange, rich fruits that glowed in beds of moss, 
 
 The Median apple and the Pontic pear, 
 
 And rough pomegranate with its gem-like cells. 
 
 Jews too were there, the men of alien race 
 
 And alien creed, who shrank from Heathen touch, 
 
 And ate not with the others, but apart, 
 
 From well-filled baskets took their bread and fish, 
 
 With solemn words of blessing. They had come, 
 
 Dealers in gold and silver, goodly pearls, 
 
 And rubies rare, and purple amethysts 
 
 From Indian shores, a ransom for a king. 
 
 They landed and were scattered : some to friends 
 Who stood expectant ; some to wile the time 
 In taverns, where the wine-cup circled round, 
 And song and dance made merry ; some to trade 
 In the full market, where the dealers met. 
 But one there was, who, silent all the way, 
 Had companied with none ; who, silent now 
 And lonely, waited on the quay, and found 
 No friends to welcome. No adventurer he, 
 With cunning wares ; no wanderer roaming far 
 To see the cities, note the lives of men ; 
 But fixed and strong in mood, as one who seeks 
 The longed-for goal, and slacks not till he finds. 
 Some eight-and-twenty summers he had seen, 
 And still the brow was smooth and eye undimmed, 
 As in youth's brightest prime ; but all the glee, 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 The mirth, the sunshine of the golden dawn 
 
 Had vanished, and a twilight grey had come 
 
 Before its time. No curling locks flowed down, 
 
 Fragrant with spikenard, over silky vest ; 
 
 No jewelled fingers played with golden chain ; 
 
 But plain and rough he stood, as is the sage 
 
 Who calls the Porch his master ; russet serge 
 
 Was all his raiment, and his hair, cut close 
 
 To noble brow, revealed the noble eye 
 
 That looked with eager glance on things and men, 
 
 And turned through all the mists from earth to 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 Leaving that crowd, and threading on his way 
 Through street and lane, he passed unheeding by 
 The halls of senates and the shrines of gods, 
 And onward journeyed to the suburb poor 
 And dark and squalid, where Massilian Jews 
 Were fain to dwell. And coming there, he asked 
 For one named Eleazar. 1 For a while 
 He found him not : they had not heard the name ; 
 No Jew so called had traded in their mart, 
 Or worshipped in their synagogue. At last 
 Some traces met his search. In dreary huts, 
 Where hunger ever haunted, they could tell 
 Of bread that came from him, of angel words 
 From lips of sisters who, in constant love, 
 Had shared his home and helped him in his age : 
 And now they both were gone, and he was left 
 
 B 2 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 So guided, the young stranger from the coasts 
 Of distant Asia found the mean abode 
 Of him he sought for. Knocking at the gate, 
 A low voice bade him enter, and he found, 
 Stretched on his couch, with snow-white hair and 
 
 beard, 
 
 Calm with the calm of sunset, the old man 
 Whom he had sought so long, and heard his voice 
 As startled by the lifting of the latch : 
 " Who comes," he asked, " at this unwonted hour 
 To break the usual stillness of my life ? 
 What dost thou here, O stranger? Youth draws 
 
 back 
 
 From age's death-bed. I have nought to give : 
 No heaped-up riches will reward the toil 
 That waits for dead men's treasures. Go thy way, 
 And leave me to myself ; or tell thy tale 
 In fewest words, that I may rest again." 
 So speaking, turning weary eyes, he looked 
 (As the one lamp shot forth its flickering gleam) 
 At the old book that lay beneath his hands, 
 At the rough cross that stood beside his couch, 
 At the white skull that spake to him of death. 
 
 But he, the stranger, meekly made reply. 
 " Nay, father, blame me not. I have not come 
 Through greed of gain, or aimless, poor caprice, 
 To break upon thy silence. I was told 
 
LAZARUS. 5 
 
 By one I honour, one, of whom I think 
 
 Thou know'st the name, to seek thee in thine age. 
 
 Jochanan, 2 once of green Bethsaida's hills, 
 
 Now elder of the Church of Ephesus, 
 
 He sends thee greeting, bids thee welcome me ; 
 
 Reminds thee of the former days, of youth 
 
 Rescued from evil, of thy Lord's great love, 
 
 And adding message strange (when I in grief 
 
 And bitterness of heart was seeking help), 
 
 Bade thee to list my tale with open ears, 
 
 And, having heard it all, to tell me thine." 
 
 " That name, my son," the old man answered 
 
 then, 
 
 " Recalls a vanished past. From distant years 
 Old faces throng around me, and the stream, 
 Long frozen into stillness, melts again, 
 And sweeps me on its current. Many a month 
 Has passed since last I heard it. Then they told 
 How he, with reverent fondness, lingered still, 
 As truest son to holiest mother vowed, 
 With her whose sorrow was like none on earth, 
 Till she too slept in peace, and then went forth 
 To bear his witness, and through many a clime 
 Pressed onward, till at last on Asia's shores 
 He landed, where the young Timotheos strove, 
 Unequal, with the dangers of the time, 
 And there abode. Since then no news has come, 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 And I would fain inquire how fares he now, 
 
 How meets he there the peril and the toil, 
 
 The life so strange to one whose earlier age 
 
 In quiet passed on fair Tiberias' lake, 
 
 Or Galilean hills, and now, when eld 
 
 Has come, dwells there in lordly Ephesus, 
 
 A prophet to the nations. I would know 
 
 If still that fiery temper flashes forth 
 
 Which marked him Son of Thunder, eagle eyes 
 
 Now filled with wrath, and now in ecstasy 
 
 Of silent love uplifted to the Throne ; 
 
 Or have perchance the gathering shadows brought 
 
 To him, as unto me, the calm of eve, 
 
 Fair presage of the sweeter sleep of death ?" 
 
 " What he is now," the stranger answered then, 
 " My tale itself will show. In letters plain, 
 As in an open scroll, is written there 
 The man's whole being, all the pitying love, 
 And all the fiery wrath, and all the zeal 
 For God's unchanging truth. But I forget : 
 I linger on the threshold, and the way 
 Is long and weary, and the time is short. 
 My childhood grew in Smyrna. Happy years, 
 Blameless and pure, the orient dawn of life, 
 Passed on in silence. Mine the thrice-blest lot 
 To call a Christian, father, and to learn 
 My earliest lessons from a mother's lips 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 Who shared his faith and hope. And so I grew, 
 Not as the heathen youth, who reckless mock 
 The gods they worship, and with speech impure 
 Defile their widening thoughts, but blameless, clean 
 From spot of sensual taint. My voice was heard, 
 Clear, full, and strong to raise the lofty chant, 
 Or read the records of the saints of God, 
 Or tell the tale, that never waxes old, 
 The great good news of all the works of Christ. 
 So bright the morn, so dark and foul my sin, 
 Falling, as soon as I fell. The day drew near 
 When, trained to all the answers which the soul 
 With clearest conscience makes before its God, 
 I came to be baptised. The cleansing stream, 
 Bright as the river of the fount of life, 
 Flowed by me clear and calm. They plunged 
 
 me in, 
 
 And I rose up new-born. With garments white 
 They clothed me, and awhile I lived as one 
 Who would not stain those garments by his sin, 
 Lest he, the teacher-priest with hoary hair, 
 Should sorrow o'er my fall. In earlier days, 
 When yet a youth, I caught his watchful eye : 
 My clear Hosanna drew his listening ear : 
 And, as of old his Master bade them bring 
 The little children, and with yearning love 
 Received them in His arms, so now thy friend, 
 With solemn words of blessing, laid his hands 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 Upon my waving hair, and gave me o'er 
 To Poly carp, the shepherd of our flock ; 3 
 * As one who, going on a journey, leaves 
 His choicest treasure to his chosen friend, 
 So leave I now with thee this fair young soul, 
 More precious than all noblest pearls of price, 
 For thee to watch and cherish. Take good heed 
 Thou fail not to restore with usury.' 
 
 " So parted he, and that good bishop strove 
 To keep his trust. He taught me, prayed with me, 
 And, as I told, went with me to the stream, 
 And brought me out of darkness into light. 
 But, ah ! too soon the shadows gathered thick ; 
 I wearied of that calm restraint of life, 
 And craved- for joy, and fame, and high emprise, 
 And fellowship with others of mine age. 
 They gathered round me, and their life flowed on, 
 In one full stream of mirth, and song, and glee ; 
 They drew me to their banquets ; rich and bright 
 The red wine sparkled in the golden cups, 
 And wreaths of roses scented all the air, 
 And Tyrian couches wooed voluptuous rest ; 
 And songs like those which once Anacreon sang 
 Woke echoes in the air ; and dark-eyed girls 
 Wove the gay dance, and kindled young desire. 
 I listened, looked, and yielded. Bright and fresh 
 That life appeared. I shared those joyous feasts, 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 And bound myself to join, for weal or woe, 
 The band whose labours bore such goodly fruit : 
 Nor did I shrink when time stripped off the veil 
 That hid the inner foulness, and disclosed 
 A den of robbers. On each hand that seized 
 My hand with brother's grasp were stains of blood ; 
 Those golden cups were torn from dying men ; 
 Those fair young girls lured victims to their doom : 
 And yet I drew not back. I sought to quench 
 The pain of guilt by ever new desires, 
 The restless venture and the lawless love ; 
 And, strong and bold as is the unbroken steed, 
 I gloried in my shame, and, sinning once, 
 Sinned on exulting, chief, supreme in guilt. 
 
 " So lived I : and the madness of the time 
 Had well-nigh blotted out the thoughts of youth, 
 The holy forms, and faces calm and pale 
 Which once had been familiar, when it chanced 
 That two, who owned me captain of their band, 
 Brought in a prisoner. Old he was, and weak ; 
 And yet he trembled not, nor offered gold 
 As ransom ; nor on bended knees begged life ; 
 But, like a traveller who has reached his goal, 
 Like shepherd who has found his wandering sheep, 
 Cried out, exulting, ' Onward ! lead me on ! 
 I seek your master : to this end am come 
 Five long days' journey ; lead me on to him.' 
 
10 LAZARUS. 
 
 They led him in : and lo ! I knew at once 
 
 The great Apostle ; saw the self-same face, 
 
 Transfigured with the glory of his love, 
 
 And heard the deep, full tones that once, of old, 
 
 Had spoken words of blessing. Flushed with shame, 
 
 I would have turned and fled ; but he pressed on, 
 
 Forgetting age's weakness, and with cries 
 
 Eager and broken into sobs, pursued. 
 
 ' My child ; mine own ! why fleest thou from me, 
 
 Thy father ? Old I am, and all unarmed 
 
 To do thee hurt. Oh ! fear me not, my son, 
 
 But rather pity. Yet is hope of life ; 
 
 I, I will make thy peace with Christ, my Lord ; 
 
 I will endure thy scourging, die thy death, 
 
 And as the Lord did give His life for us, 
 
 Will offer mine for thee. Oh, stay ! Oh, turn ! 
 
 Believe me, Christ hath sent me.' 
 
 " So I stood, 
 
 With eyes bent low, and, casting down my spear, 
 In sudden tremor shook in every limb, 
 And, falling at his feet, I wept for shame, 
 Weeping for joy as well. The evil taint 
 That poisoned all my life was healed : I stood 
 Once more renewed, baptised again with tears. 
 
 " The change had come. The better life went 
 
 on : 
 But still I wavered : visions of the past 
 
LAZARUS. II 
 
 Still vexed the brain ; the snake still slept within : 
 And ever and anon its venom ran, 
 Stirring the pulses of the old desire, 
 Benumbing holier purpose. Then the gloom 
 Of hopeless sadness seized me. Awful words, 
 ' Too late ! ' ' In vain ! ' were written on my life ; 
 And then in my distress I turned to him, 
 My father and my guide, and sought for help : 
 ' Give me some spell to bid these visions flee ; 
 Some charm to raise me from this blank despair. 
 These hands hang down, and on the upward path 
 These feeble knees wax weary. Is there none 
 Whose feet have travelled on the self-same track, 
 Who knows the deep recesses of our life, 
 The hidden things of darkness, and can give 
 The secret of his conquest ? Thou, O saint ! 
 The loved one of thy Lord, from earliest youth 
 Spotless and pure, hast never known my fall, 
 Nor sinned as I have sinned. With all thy love, 
 Thou canst not gauge my weakness ; and I shrink 
 From vexing thee with all my tales of woe, 
 The haunting echoes of the sin-stained past.' 
 
 " And thus he gave his answer. ' Know, my son, 
 Thy help comes not from man. No brother's arm 
 Can stay thee in that conflict. Yet there lives 
 One who knows more than others, one whose eyes 
 Have looked behind the veil, and, learning there 
 
12 LAZARUS. 
 
 The mysteries of death, have seen his life 
 
 Far other than he deemed. And he, perchance, 
 
 May give thee what thou seekest. He, at last 
 
 Victorious in a strife where once he failed, 
 
 May tell the secret of his late success. 
 
 But thou must journey far : on distant shores, 
 
 Where ships bound westward bring our Asian wares 
 
 Into Massilia's harbour, dwells the man 
 
 Of whom I tell thee. Once there lived with him 
 
 Two sisters, pure and saintly, serving God, 
 
 One most in action, one in thought and prayer; 
 
 But if they live I know not. He, I trust, 
 
 Is not yet gone. Long since he pledged his word, 
 
 Whene'er he heard the summons to depart, 
 
 To send me tidings. Then my lips may tell 
 
 The wondrous tale which now the silence veils : 
 
 Till then those lips are sealed, and thou must hear 
 
 The story from himself. God speed thy way, 
 
 And when thou reachest far Massilia's port, 
 
 Go, ask for Eleazar (or, perchance, 
 
 They call him Lazarus there), and say from me, 
 
 His friend Jochanan greets him, and for love 
 
 Of his dear Lord beseeches him to hear 
 
 Thy tale, and, having heard, to tell thee his.' " 
 
 Then answered Eleazar. " Mine is not 
 The wisdom that thou seekest ; yet, may-be, 
 From this poor, faltering tongue our God shall send 
 
LAZARUS. 13 
 
 His oracle of peace. Know first, our paths 
 
 Are not the same. My guilt was not as thine ; 
 
 I never knew the danger or the joy 
 
 Of that wild robber-life. My days were spent 
 
 In blameless peace and study of our law, 
 
 And frequent prayers ; and all our Rabbis taught, 
 
 Who sat in Moses' seat, I learnt and did. 
 
 Of all the youth in great Jerusalem 
 
 My fame stood fairest, and the honoured seats, 
 
 Nearest the ark, in every synagogue 
 
 Were offered me of right. And yet I sinned 
 
 A seven-fold sin, corroding all the life, 
 
 More deadly far than thine, defying cure, 
 
 But for the mercy, wide and wonderful, 
 
 Of God our Father. 
 
 How my earlier years 
 
 Were taught, I told thee. In that morn of life 
 My father died, and I was left of three 
 The youngest, yet the heir. The stored-up wealth 
 Of many years ; rich robes of gorgeous hue, 
 And gems that sparkled, set in Ophir's gold, 
 And coins of many lands, and bonds that pledged 
 The borrower to the highest rate of use, 
 And wide-spread fields, and vineyards planted 
 
 thick 
 
 With choicest vine, and barns that still o'erflowed 
 With corn, heaped up against a time of dearth 
 To sell at famine prices ; this was mine : 
 
14 LAZARUS. 
 
 And those who honoured most my virtues, bowed 
 Yet more before my wealth. 4 
 
 Yet One there was 
 
 Who bowed to neither : One whose life rebuked 
 Our selfish quiet. A Rabbi, like the rest, 
 He came among us ; taught in synagogues, 
 And reasoned in the Temple ; yet our Scribes 
 Disowned Him ; for His youth had grown in shade, 
 Away from all the schools where seven long years 
 The sons of Hillel or of Shammai toil 
 Through law, tradition, comment, till at last 
 The Master of the Wise, with solemn state, 
 The key of knowledge placing in their hands, 
 Admits them to their office. He had learnt 
 His wisdom elsewhere, startling all m^n's minds 
 With mighty words, as one who, clothed with power, 
 Came as a prophet. And the words were strange, 
 And stranger yet the life. Not clad as they 
 In stately robes that swept the ground they trod, 
 With golden ring, and ivory staff, and shoes 
 Of costliest texture ; but in sackcloth coarse, 
 The raiment of the poorest, and the thongs 
 Of leathern sandals tied across His feet, 
 So stood He in our presence. 
 
 And the themes 
 
 Were startling that He spake of. I have heard 
 Our wisest teachers talk in full debate, 
 And fill our Sanhedrim with floods of speech, 
 
LAZARUS. 15 
 
 Hot, vehement, and angry ; arguing still, 
 If men, who vowed their substance to the Lord, 
 Might feed their father's or their mother's age, 
 Or in their zeal must leave them both to starve ; 
 Or whether on the holy Sabbath morn 
 The fisherman who set his nets o'ernight, 
 Might leave them while he rested ; or, if storm 
 Should fall upon his flock, the shepherd's feet 
 Might without blame go forth upon the hills 
 To seek the wandering sheep. All this I heard 
 Day after day debated : but the man 
 Of whom I speak came preaching other things 
 Than this, God's kingdom for the pure and meek ; 
 Peace, love, forgiveness, to the contrite heart ; 
 The blessings of the poor, the snares and woes 
 Which wealth and praise and honour bring to men. 
 We listened and we smiled. ' The peasant's son 
 Speaks as a peasant ; grudges us the pay 
 And honour of our calling ; fain would rise 
 Upon our downfall.' So they spake : and I, 
 In my thick darkness thought and spake as they. 
 
 " But soon within the circle of my home 
 That Teacher came. I was not there that day : 
 But Martha to our home invited Him, 
 As women love to welcome honoured guests, 
 The Rabbis and the Scribes who wend their way 
 From school to school ; and there with active zeal 
 
T6 LAZARUS. 
 
 She spread the board with dainties ; bade our slaves 
 Be quick and active, kill the fatted calf, 
 And gather figs and grapes, and pour the wine 
 Of Eshcol, spiced with balm of Lebanon. 
 But Miriam, younger, gentler, sat and gazed 
 At that strange presence, and her heart was drawn 
 To listen to His speech ; and he spake on, 
 Discoursing of the Kingdom, and the Love 
 Embracing all, and Faith that wins the crown, 
 And leaving all for God. And she sat there, 
 Still listening, while her sister laboured on, 
 Vexed, wroth, and weary ; and at last, with words 
 Of murmur, spake her grievance : ' Care'st thou not, 
 O Sir ! that I through all the noon-tide heat 
 Am slaving for Thy sake ; while she sits there, 
 Calm and at ease, beneath the sheltering vine, 
 And dreams and listens ? ' But the Lord replied : 
 ' Ah ! Martha, Martha ! vexed with many things, 
 Troubled and worn art thou. But one alone 
 Is needful ; and that one good part is hers 
 Who hears from me the words of endless life.' 
 
 " I heard the tale, returning to my home : 
 But still it changed me not. Some haunting doubts 
 Rose up unbidden ; but I crushed them down, 
 Half mocking at myself and half at Him, 
 As vexed by mystic dreams which stronger souls 
 Pass by unheeding. 
 
LAZARUS. 17 
 
 " So it chanced, one day, 
 We stood and listened with the meaning smile 
 And whispered taunt, as men who watch the words 
 Of some wild zealot, when he speaks again, 
 Still harping on the thoughts that eat his soul, 
 The threadbare topics of his thrice-told tale. 
 When, lo ! He told a tale we had not heard : 
 And as He told it, with His eye full fixed 
 On me, He spake my name. I turned, and gazed 
 In wonder, for it was not thus His wont 
 With names to deck His stories. Stranger still, 
 He told of one unnamed, whose life, like mine, 
 Was rich in all the joys that wealth can give, 
 Fine linen, purple, sumptuous feasts and wine : 
 And he, when life was over, passed at once 
 Into the outer darkness and the flames 
 That burn in Hades ; while for him who bore 
 My name there oped the gates of Paradise, 
 And angels bore him to his blissful home. 
 But note the wonder of that mystic tale : 
 The Lazarus who lay on Abraham's breast, 
 The Lazarus whom angels bore on high, 
 On earth lay crouching at the rich man's gate, 
 A beggar full of sores. I felt the sting 
 Of that concealed rebuke. ' Is this,' I asked, 
 ' The crown of true obedience ? Must I die, 
 I, Eleazar, honoured, blameless, rich, 
 And pass to torments ? If I seek to gain 
 
 c 
 
 L- 
 
l8 LAZARUS. 
 
 The fair, green fields of Eden, must I live 
 
 As Eleazar, homeless, friendless, poor, 
 
 The dogs my only comforters?' And then, 
 
 What meant that strange conclusion : ' If the law 
 
 Avail not, nor the prophets, who will hear, 
 
 Though one returning from the dead should speak ? 
 
 Had we not listened to the law of God, 
 
 Who read it day and night ? What need had we 
 
 Of new persuasion ? If the thing might be, 
 
 That rising from the dead, what more could come 
 
 Than what we knew already ? Every bound 
 
 Of Heaven and Hell our scribes had mapped and 
 
 planned, 
 
 As men mark out the region of their home, 
 Assigning that to these, their friends, themselves, 
 And this to heathens, or Samaria's sons, 
 Or hated rivals.' 
 
 "So I reasoned still, 
 
 And turned away hi anger. But the dream 
 Pursued me ; night and day it filled my soul ; 
 The speechless terrors banished all my rest ; 
 I panted after peace. And so I came 
 Once more to hear, not now with curling lip, 
 And brow uplifted, but with eager step, 
 Low bending down, (I, Lazarus, the rich, 
 The ruler, bowing at His feet who came 
 From Nazareth, the carpenter !) 5 I sought 
 With words of studied honour, on my knees, 
 
LAZARUS. 19 
 
 To gain the peace I needed. ' What good thing, 
 
 thou good teacher, wilt Thou bid me do, 
 That I may call the Life Eternal mine ? ' 
 
 1 asked in earnest, but it pleased Him not, 
 
 That ready homage. * Why speakest thou of good ? 
 
 Why comes that word so lightly from thy lips, 
 
 When none is good but God ? If true thy search 
 
 For Life Eternal, keep His holy Laws, 
 
 The few great words which in thine earliest years 
 
 Thy mother taught thee.' Then, as one who gives 
 
 A child his lesson, one by one He spake 
 
 The precepts which our Jewish boys repeat, 
 
 As of the Second Table. I, amazed, 
 
 Looked still for something more. Had I for this 
 
 Come, fighting down my pride, to climb the heights 
 
 Of truth and wisdom, willing to accept 
 
 New rules of fasting, or new forms of prayer, 
 
 Or with the Nazarite's vow to cleanse my way ? 
 
 And now the Teacher sent me back to school, 
 
 To take my place there on its lowest form, 
 
 With boys of ten ? So, not without a touch 
 
 Of anger and reproof, I answer made, 
 
 ' All these are common and familiar things, 
 
 And I have kept them from my earliest youth. 
 
 What lack I yet to make my life complete ? ' 
 
 Then, with a smile half-sad, as one who sees 
 
 In some high-minded, noble boy the germs 
 
 Of future evil, so He looked on me 
 
 C 2 
 
20 LAZARUS. 
 
 With wistful pity. And he kissed my brow, 
 As Rabbis do with scholars whom they love, 
 And with a subtle tone of something more 
 Than met the ear, went on. ' Ah ! this is well ; 
 But yet thou lackest one thing. Sell thy goods, 
 Give to the poor, and, taking up thy cross, 
 Follow thou me, and thou, be sure, shalt have 
 Treasure in Heaven.' 
 
 " I heard, dismayed and sad, 
 The words that came like lightning o'er my soul, 
 And blasted all my hopes. To give up all, 
 The silver, and the garments, and the lands, 
 And be as those who by the Temple-gates 
 Sit asking alms ; would nothing less suffice, 
 No copious tithes of corn, and wine, and oil, 
 Extending to the cummin and the mint ; 
 No bounteous offerings to the Corban chest, 
 So large that men should spread with trumpet 
 
 voice 
 
 My praises through the land ? I never dreamt 
 Of such a work as this ; and yet beyond 
 That depth His words disclosed a lower deep. 
 Not poverty alone, but shame and woe ; 
 To bear my cross, as I have sometimes seen 
 The sad procession pass our city's gates, 
 Each rebel-robber bearing on his back 
 The beam on which to hang. Is this the King, 
 The SOD of David, the expected Christ, 
 
LAZARUS. 21 
 
 Who comes to give us freedom ? Am I called 
 To follow Him in that ? 
 
 " I turned aside 
 
 With brow o'erclouded, and with downcast eyes 
 That told of inward conflict, half-impelled 
 To yield to Him whose words had thrilled my soul, 
 Half-shrinking from the sacrifice He claimed. 
 Slowly I turned, and as I went my way, 
 I heard that clear, calm voice in saddest tones, 
 ' How hardly shall the rich man find out God, 
 And enter into Heaven ! ' And then a sound 
 Of murmured questions, and, at last, once more, 
 The same low sweetness, as of one who prays, 
 ' Impossible with man, but not with God ;' 
 And then I heard no more. 
 
 " Ere many days 
 
 A fever laid me low : through all my veins 
 Rushed the hot blood that filled with spectral forms 
 The darkness round me. What availed it then 
 To count the coin, the garments, and the bonds ? 
 Those golden wine-cups would not quench my thirst ; 
 Those gems showed hideous on my purpled skin ; 
 The spikenard ointment served no more for feasts, 
 Breathing its odorous breath : they kept it back 
 For that last use when o'er the senseless dead, 
 All stiff and cold, they pour the rich perfume. 
 So sharp the fever that it smote me down, 
 Left me no power to think, or will, or pray, 
 
22 LAZARUS. 
 
 One painful stupor till its course was run ; 
 And round me came the mourners, wailing loud, 
 (The best were hired in all Jerusalem, 
 As suited to my rank) and raised their cries, 
 * Ah me ! my brother, who will comfort now 
 Thy sisters and thy friends ? Ah me ! Ah me ! 
 The God of Abraham takes thee to thy place 
 In Abraham's bosom,' and with clasped hands, 
 Beating their breasts, they went on, hour by hour, 
 'Alas! Ah me ! Who now will be our joy? 
 Our eyes' desire is taken at a stroke.' 
 And then the Rabbis gathered, some who came 
 Because they loved me, some in pride of state, 
 To show that they too knew me, and they spake 
 Of all my many virtues : * What a life 
 Cut off before its time ! In ten years' space 
 He might have been, of all our Sanhedrim, 
 Held most in honour ! ' Then, with 'bated breath, 
 ; But after all, what is, perchance, is best. 
 He had his weakness, half-inclined to own 
 That half-mad Nazarene. Those sisters there 
 Have made no secret of it. Rumour tells 
 They had Him to their house. Well, let us hope 
 This warning blow may bring them back to us.' 
 So spake they, but they knew not all the while 
 I heard them in Gehenna. In mine ears 
 Their praise was hateful, and that ' half-inclined ' 
 Came floating to me as the knell of doom, 
 
LAZARUS. 23 
 
 The witness of my guilt. But ' half-inclined ! ' 
 
 Oh ! had that 'half been whole I had not been 
 
 In that thick darkness, wailing bitterly. 
 
 How long I lay I knew not, for the lost 
 
 Count not their time by days, and months, and 
 
 years, 
 
 But one long, dreary, everlasting Now 
 Is ever with them. Every thought of sin 
 Becomes a drear abyss of boundless woe, 
 And every act, a moment's sudden heat, 
 Expands into an aeon. All my life 
 Lay spread before me as an open scroll : 
 The earliest lust, the boyish greed of praise, 
 The false dissemblance, and the speech unkind, 
 These came upon me from the abysmal depths 
 Where Memory's fountains pour their seething 
 
 floods, 
 
 And whelmed me in their torrent. Ah ! my son, 
 If 'twere for this Jochanan sent thee here, 
 Heed thou my words. The man who once has 
 
 looked 
 
 Behind the veil which severs death from life, 
 He would not venture, all the world to win, 
 One single thought against the Eternal Law. 
 We know not now the power of every soul 
 To be its own tormentor. Here on earth 
 We cheat ourselves with comfort. Easy days, 
 And pleasant feasts, and praise of many friends, 
 
24 LAZARUS. 
 
 These dull our thoughts. Amid the din of arms, 
 Or strife of sects, or words of hot debate, 
 Or painter's art, or skill of poet's speech, 
 Or sweetest music, we forget our guilt, 
 And drug our spirits to a death-like sleep : 
 With loud- toned prayers, and anthems full and clear, 
 We drown the inward voice : the scribe, self-blind, 
 Examining his conscience, shuts out God. 
 But there no shadows come between the soul 
 And that consuming holiness of God : 
 There, face to face, we stand before the Light 
 That lighteth all men, and its glorious rays, 
 The joy and bliss of all who love the Truth, 
 Become, for those who hate, the Eternal Fire : 
 And Memory dwells not there on former years, 
 As now, with pleasant thoughts of pleasant sins, 
 But preying on the spirit evermore, 
 Lives on and on, the worm that dieth not. 
 
 " So was I, hopeless in my utter woe, 
 When, breaking through the silence of the grave, 
 Through all the darkness of that drear abyss, 
 The same clear voice cried, 'Lazarus, come forth; 
 And once again I woke, as from a dream, 
 Looked out once more upon the world of life, 
 And swathed in grave-clothes, head and hands arc! 
 
 feet, 
 Stood there all wondering, looking out on Him 
 
LAZARUS. . 25 
 
 Whose word had called me. Still His cheeks were 
 
 wet 
 
 With tears of love, of tenderness, of grief; 
 The sounds of prayer still trembled on the lips ; 
 The eyes were bright, as when the angels look 
 With joy from Heaven on one repentant soul. 
 And then I saw it all, the love, the power, 
 The wisdom, that had guided all the past. 
 In that strange story which had roused my fears 
 No Lazarus came to tell the secret things 
 That lie behind the veil, but now on earth 
 There stood a Lazarus who had looked on death, 
 And lived to bear his witness. 
 
 " Need I tell, 
 
 My son, the further story of my life ? 
 The change was wrought. I stayed no longer now ; 
 But bore at once the Cross. They sought my life ; 
 I lived each day as still expecting death ; 
 And gave up all I had, and fed the poor 
 In one great feast, to which the Master came, 
 With all His followers. Martha showed her love, 
 Still active, eager, but by love made free 
 From all her many cares, and Miriam now, 
 Her joy and gladness rushing into act, 
 Brought forth her precious ointment, costly store. 
 That might have paid a labourer all his wage 
 Throughout the circling year, and poured it out 
 Upon the Lord's dear feet. I spake not then ; 
 
26 LAZARUS. 
 
 Upon my lips the seal of silence lay, 
 
 And still the fear of death was on my soul. 
 
 ' Is Hades conquered?' I had asked when first 
 
 I looked on light anew, * or must I die 
 
 The common death of all men ? ' 6 Could I smile, 
 
 Hearing I stood, death's terrors still in sight, 
 
 As men may smile who have not crossed the stream ? 
 
 Not so, but thought and vigil, prayer and fast, 
 
 These filled the hours, and evermore I sought 
 
 To know how He who saved me lived His life, 
 
 Not with the crowd, or teaching in the streets, 
 
 Or breaking bread with friends, but when alone 
 
 He with His Father communed secretly. 
 
 And one clear moonlight night I followed Him 
 
 To that calm garden of Gethsemane, 
 
 Where oft He made resort. All now was gone, 
 
 My land, my gold, my robes ; I kept back nought 
 
 But the few weeds I wore, and still I stored, 
 
 As precious relic of a priceless boon, 
 
 The winding-sheet of linen, white and clean, 
 
 In which they wrapt me. At the midnight hour, 
 
 Casting that sheet around me, I stole on, 
 
 From Bethany and over Olivet, 
 
 And neared the garden. As the moonlight shone, 
 
 I saw the three, the foremost of the Twelve, 
 
 Weary and spent with toil, stretched out in sleep. 
 
 As men too tired to watch, too weak to pray. 
 
 But He was there, the pale face paler seen, 
 
LAZARUS. 27 
 
 As on it fell the moonbeams, and the sweat 
 Dropt down from brow and face in agony ; 
 And as I nearer drew, I heard the cry 
 (Strange echo of the words once heard before), 
 'With Thee, O Father, all is possible/ 
 And then, as yielding up His will to God's, 
 He left it all to that Almighty Love 
 To give or to refuse. 
 
 " What more I saw 
 
 I need not tell. Thou know'st it in the tale 
 Which every Church receives, the shame, the scourge, 
 The cross, the death, the burial, and the morn 
 Of that bright Rising. Yet there dwells with me 
 One moment in my life I may not pass. 
 As I stood listening, from the Kedron vale 
 The crowd streamed forth, with torches, clubs, and 
 
 swords, 
 
 And thronging through the garden seized on Him, 
 And led Him captive. The eight, and then the 
 
 three, 
 
 Alarmed, confused, forsook their Lord and fled. 
 I followed breathless, but the moonlight's gleam, 
 Falling on that white robe, betrayed my form ; 
 And, seeing in me one they sought to slay, 
 They seized me also, caught the linen sheet, 
 Arid when I left it in their hands and fled, 
 And plunged into the darkness, there I knelt 
 (The cold moon falling on the olive boughs 
 
28 LAZARUS. 
 
 To which I fled for shelter) naked, poor, 
 Hunted, alone. 7 ' Now,' thought I, * there is hope ; 
 The world has left me homeless as my Lord ; 
 No single rag of all his former state 
 Now cleaves to Eleazar.' 
 
 " Since that hour 
 
 Full fifty years have passed ; yet still I live 
 As one who asks for this day's bread alone. 
 I toil, and am content. Through all the change 
 Of life I bear my cross, and follow Him : 
 On distant shores, amid an alien race, 
 My brethren's foes, I linger out my days. 
 My sisters did their work, and fell asleep, 
 And I am left alone ; yet not alone, 
 For Christ, my Lord, is with me. Thou, my son, 
 Hast seen me how I live ; and I have told 
 The tale Jochanan bade thee ask to hear. 
 And now the stars are shining, and mine eyes 
 With age and thought are weary : and lest I, 
 Like those three sleepers in Gethsemane, 
 Should fail to watch one hour, I bid thee go. 
 Watch thou and pray ; and if to-morrow's sun 
 Rise on thy soul with healing on its wings, 
 Or if there dwells aught yet upon thy soul 
 Wherein thou seekest counsel, come once more 
 And open out thine heart ; and I will speak, 
 As Christ has taught me through these circling years, 
 The secrets of His truth. His peace be thine ! " 
 
LAZARUS. 29 
 
 So parted they, the old man and the youth : 
 One turning to his skull, his cross, his book ; 
 One wandering through the strange bewildering 
 
 town. 
 
 And over all the moon poured golden light, 
 And fair Massilia's waters slumbered calm ; 
 And fairer yet and calmer were the thoughts 
 That dawned, faint-gleaming, on the wanderer's soul; 
 But as the moonlight, flecked and dimmed with 
 
 clouds, 
 
 Shone on the waters rippled by the breeze, 
 So o'er his spirit passed opposing moods, 
 Now bright with hope, now half perplexed with fear, 
 Now clear in faith, now clouded o'er in doubt. 
 
 April, 1864. 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE morning came, and then they met once 
 more, 
 
 The grey-haired saint, whose second path of life 
 Was near its end, and he, in youth's full strength, 
 The wanderer seeking truth, and light, and help. 
 They both had told their story, and their hearts 
 Were opened, and as face doth answer face, 
 So talked they freely, mirroring the thoughts, 
 Each of the other. And the younger spake, 
 " Thy words, my father, dwell within my soul, 
 Like fire that burns and cleanses. For myself 
 The path is clear, the way that leads to God, 
 Through tears, and dread, and darkness : evermore 
 To bear within my heart His perfect Law, 
 His Word that cleaves the secret depths of life ; 
 To conquer self, renounce the glittering world, 
 My life being hid with Christ. And, if alone 
 I stood, or strove, as those who run their race, 
 To win my prize, regardless of the res ', 
 
LAZARUS. 31 
 
 This were enough. But as I walked last eve 
 Massilia's streets, far other thoughts than these 
 Came thronging on me. From this holy shade 
 Wherein thou liv'st I passed to Babel's glare, 
 Mad songs of riot, words of shameless lust, 
 Foul misery plunging into fouler mire, 
 Hard-toiling men, their day of labour done, 
 Sleeping brute-sleep, to whom no vision comes 
 Of life full-orbed, or God's o'erstretching Love ; 
 And, as I looked and thought, the question grew 
 Distinct and clear, and would not be denied, 
 Which never till thy word had changed my life 
 I dreamt of asking. These poor, wandering .sheep, 
 What have they done that they should pass away 
 To those dark shadows of the drear abyss ? 
 They do the world's rough work, they delve a ad 
 
 toil, 
 
 None caring for their souls, and pass away 
 Without one ray of light that falls on us, 
 Without one hope that looks beyond the grave. 
 These harlot-girls who flaunt along the streets 
 With pencilled brows, and filmy, saffron vests, 
 And warbled song, and winning, wanton dance ; 
 These boys with gleaming eyes and golden hair, 
 Their waving locks all wet with odorous nard, 
 Who, knowing not the baseness, stain their youth ; 
 These Gauls and Thracians, torn from distant shores, 
 Herding, like brutes, by hundreds in their dens, 
 
LAZARUS. 
 
 Butchered when Rome makes merry, all the 
 
 crowds 
 
 That throng the marts, the ships, the camps of men, 
 What future lies before them ? Must I think 
 That one great torrent sweeps them on to Hell, 
 That they who never heard the name of God, 
 Nor knew His righteous will, shall first awake 
 To that clear knowledge in the hopeless fires ? 
 I look around, and here and there I see 
 One lonely soul who struggles after truth : 
 But, far and wide, the thousands live and die, 
 Unknowing of the greatness of their lives ; 
 And when I travel o'er the tracts of space, 
 Or look behind me on the expanse of time, 
 The same drear vision meets me. And I ask, 
 * Can this be all that Christ has come to win ? 
 Is this the bruising of the serpent's head ? 
 Is this the triumph of the victor's car ? 
 Sees He in this the travail of His soul, 
 And with it rests content ? ' I spake but now 
 Of men and women who have lived their lives ; 
 But what of all the myriad souls that pass 
 Their few short hours on earth, and then are gone ? 
 That child of harlot-mother, born in sin 
 And left to perish ; has God's gift of life 
 For those few pain-fraught moments brought on it 
 The woe that runs through all the endless years ? 
 Or if you tell me that Kis Love is wide, 
 
LAZARUS. 33 
 
 That infants whom His Church receives are saved, 
 Cleansed by the healing waters, then I ask, 
 Can all the future age of woe or weal 
 Turn on that chance which they nor know nor care 
 To ask for, or refuse ? Or if, once more, 
 You tell me of a Love diviner still, 
 Embracing all, baptized or infidel, 
 To whom death comes as infant's gentle sleep, 
 Then subtle questioning brings the doubt again ; 
 ' If they are safe within the arms of God, 
 Through all the eternal ages, sure to fail, 
 If childhood's life pass on to conscious will, 
 Why should not then a mother's tenderest love, 
 Stifling her nature's instinct, crush the life 
 That from her draws its nurture, prizing more 
 That endless bliss than all the smiles and tears, 
 The waxen touches and the clinging grasp, 
 Which joy a mother's heart ? If this be true, 
 Our hearts should leap for joy and give God thanks, 
 When harlots slay the issue of their shame, 
 When nations, sunk in darkness, cast their babes 
 A prey to dogs and vultures, when the plague 
 Sweeps o'er the earth and lays its thousands low, 
 Or earth's deep fires burst forth from inward depths, 
 And pour their boiling torrents, as of late, 
 On fair Pompeii down Vesevus' slope, 1 
 Enshrouding in that tomb of burning dust 
 The mothers and their children.' Woe is me ! 
 
34 LAZARUS. 
 
 I tremble, oh, my father ! as I speak 
 
 The thoughts that haunt me. In thine eyes, per 
 
 chance, 
 
 They seem too bold. They trespass on the ground 
 Where men must walk in darkness. But to thee 
 I cpen all my heart, for thou hast seen 
 What others have not. Thou canst meet my 
 
 doubts, 
 
 And tell me of Gehenna ; thou must know 
 The armies of the lost, and of the saved ; 
 And therefore blame me not, if I, in words 
 All rough and hasty, bring those doubts to thee." 
 
 He ceased ; and then the old man looked on 
 
 him, 
 
 Not with uplifted hands, and brow that told 
 Of holy horror, but with wistful thought, 
 Admiring, pitying, loving. And he spake : 
 " Fear not, my son, to tell me all thy soul ; 
 Thy doubt outspoken may perchance pass on 
 To purer faith. The fault that saps the life 
 Isi doubt half-crushed, half-veiled ; the lip-assent 
 Which finds no echo in tJic heart of hearts ; 
 The secret lie, which, conscious of its guilt, 
 Atones for falsehood by intenser zeal. 
 These questionings of thine, I know them all, 
 Know too they come but as the signs of life : 
 Our Rabbis heed them not : they read and pray, 
 
LAZARUS. 35 
 
 Debating in their synagogues and schools, 
 
 Detecting this man's faults, and grudging that 
 
 The honour he has earned. They little care 
 
 What happens to the crowd. They look with scorn 
 
 Upon that crowd, ' the people of the earth' ; 
 
 Filling high places at the feasts of men, 
 
 They count on higher at the feast of God, 
 
 And that suffices. But from thee, my son, 
 
 Far be that poor content : speak out thy thought 
 
 As Abraham spake it, when he asked of God, 
 
 ' Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ?' 
 
 As Job, when, smarting in his sore distress, 
 
 He claimed acquittal. I condemn thee not : 
 
 And yet, my son, I cannot grant thy prayer ; 
 
 I cannot solve the problems of thy soul. 
 
 In those few days I passed beyond the veil 
 
 I learnt to know myself, to fear and love 
 
 The Lord my Maker ; but that lore sufficed ; 
 
 I could not rise to yon supernal height 
 
 Whence all the wonder of the world is seen, 
 
 And all the ages in their ordered plan. 
 
 That secret dawns not on the new-born life ; 
 
 The mystery of God remains uncleared : 
 
 Into these things the angels seek to look, 
 
 Yet see not far. Let others dream their dreams, 
 
 Map out the world of Hades, mark the lines, 
 
 As though they knew the country, I, for one, 
 
 Must own I know it not, and if I speak 
 
 D 2 
 
36 LAZARUS. 
 
 As one whose eyes are opened, know, the Light 
 
 Shines on me from within. No fearful forms 
 
 Of spectral horrors float before mine eyes, 
 
 But Christ, my Lord, has led me on to truth ; 
 
 His Spirit quickens all my power to see. 
 
 And yet, my son, it may be that thou ask'st 
 
 Not wisely of this matter. I have known, 
 
 Ere now, that craving. Many eyes have looked 
 
 Across the abyss, and many lips have asked, 
 
 With varying accents, ' Are the saved ones few ? ' 
 
 Some seek that knowledge in their pride of heart, 
 
 As finding greater glory in the thought 
 
 Of crowds beneath them, failing where they win ; 
 
 And some in selfish fear lest place should fail 
 
 For them in heaven ; and some, my son, like 
 
 thee, 
 
 In wistful love ;nd pity. But to none 
 Is the full answer given : and, evermore, 
 The veil, uplifted for a moment's space, 
 Falls once again, and hides the rest from view. 
 So was it once when Christ our Master taught, 
 And one came eager, asking as thou ask'st, 
 And answer found : ' Strive thou to enter in, 
 For strait the gate and narrow is the way 
 That lead to life.' So was it once again, 
 When Cephas, asking of Jochanan's fate, 
 Received his answer, ' What is that to thee ?' 
 He bids us walk by faith and not by sight ; 
 
LAZARUS. 37 
 
 He bids us trust His all-embracing love, 
 His Father's righteous purpose. 
 
 " Yet He taught 
 
 Enough to put to shame our narrowing hearts, 
 And quicken wider hopes. From out the Book, 
 Where Scribes and Rabbis find abounding proof 
 That they alone may call the Lord their God, 
 He read the tokens of a love that streams 
 On Jew and Gentile, over bad and good, 
 As shines the sun in heaven. And thence He told 
 Of outcasts who had sought the light of God, 
 Of heathens, whom Jehovah owned as His; 
 The Syrian leper, cleansed in Jordan's flood, 
 Sarepta's widow, with her cruse of oil, 
 The men of Nimrod's city, crouching low 
 In dust and ashes at the prophet's word, 
 The queen who, coming from the furthest south, 
 Communed with David's son of all the thoughts, 
 Deep, wide, and wondrous, that had stirred her 
 
 heart : 
 
 And thus, through all His life He gave us proof, 
 While working still by self-imposed law 
 Within a narrower limit, that His heart 
 Went forth to all. He shrank not from the touch 
 Of harlot's hands, or flood of harlot's tears ; 
 He turned not back when that adulterous wife 
 At Jacob's well spoke with him, went and dwelt 
 For two whole days within Samaria's gates ; 
 
38 LAZARUS. 
 
 And when that outcast of a cursed race 
 Knelt to Him in her woe, and found at first 
 Reluctance, silence, sternness, yet the change 
 Came soon ; His eye had read her secret soul, 
 And all she asked He gave. The soldier rough, 
 Trained in Rome's legions to a life of war, 
 Was owned by Him as having nobler faith 
 Than we of Israel. Yea, the words went forth : 
 ' From east and west, from north and south, shall 
 
 come 
 
 Thousands, and tens of thousands, sitting down 
 With Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, at the feast 
 Of God's great kingdom.' Bolder, stranger still, 
 He drew two pictures of that last great day : 
 On one side stood the greatest of our Scribes, 
 Honoured and trusted, rigorous in their fasts, 
 Punctual in prayers, paying tithes of all ; 
 And, on the other, those whose names we loathe, 
 The dwellers of the Cities of the Vale, 
 The men of Tyre and Sidon, sunk, as they, 
 In pride, and lust, and baseness. ' And for these/ 
 So ran the words, ' shall be the lighter doom, 
 The fewer stripes, the easier pain and loss ; 
 For those, the outer darkness, and the wail 
 Of sharpest woe.' And then, my son, He told 
 What oft has given me comfort when dark thoughts 
 Like those thou speak'st of, haunt and vex my soul, 
 Words which lift up one corner of the veil, 
 
LAZARUS. 39 
 
 And show hope's brighter vision ; ' lighter doom' ; 
 So spake He ; ' for had they too seen my works, 
 And heard my words, in sackcloth and in dust 
 Long since they had repented.' Wondrous words ! 
 Which none might speak but He, the Judge of all, 
 Who reads the inner depths of each man's heart, 
 And calls the things that are not into life, 
 Counting as though they were. He sees the gleams 
 Of better thoughts across the murkiest gloom, 
 The seeds of good amid the howling wastes, 
 And perfects them at last ; and, in the depths 
 Of His divine forbearance, suffereth long, 
 And passeth by transgression. Those who wait 
 To meet the bridegroom, they must trim their lamps, 
 And seek the oil from heaven ; and those who own 
 Him Master, and from Him their gifts receive, 
 Must bring their talents ten, or five, or one 
 With usury to their Lord. But that vast throng, 
 The multitude of peoples, nations, tongues, 
 Shall stand before His throne, and every act 
 Of human kindness He will own as His, 
 And crown as service rendered unto Him. 
 Oh ! doubt not, then, my son, but fight thy way 
 In clearer faith against bewildering fears : 
 Believe that He who in His pitying love 
 Embraced the children, not of saintly sires, 
 Or wise, or mighty, but the low-born babes 
 Of peasant mothers, whom the cleansing flood 
 
40 LAZARUS. 
 
 Of baptism never reached, and laid His hands, 
 Mighty to bless, upon their infant heads ; 
 Doubt not that He looks on, embracing still 
 All new-born souls that taste the breath of life. 
 That child of harlot-mother, in His sight 
 Who judges all, is precious as the babe 
 Which slumbers peaceful in the enfolding anus 
 Of saintliest matron. Nor do years alone 
 Determine childhood. Those who live and die, 
 Children in knowledge, ignorant, and blind, 
 Children in sprit, simple, kind, and true, 
 Children in temper, wayward, changeful, weak, 
 These too He pities, these He seeks to bless ; 
 Their angels stand as highest near the throne. 
 So evermore His sentence overturns 
 Our feebler judgment. Outcasts, whom thou spurn'st, 
 Shall stand before their God arrayed in white, 
 And sing for joy, the last become the first ; 
 And Rabbis, saints, and teachers, if they hope 
 For pardon and for peace, must take their place 
 Low down with shame, the first become the last. 
 So in the end the eternal Love will shine ; 
 So at the last the mists and clouds will clear : 
 Till then from out the cloud there comes the voice 
 Which speaks in trumpet-tones through every land : 
 ' O house of Israel ! O thou church of Gcvi ! 
 O parties, sects, disputers ! own ye not 
 Your ways unequal, Mine all just and true ? ' " 
 
LAZARUS. 4k 
 
 Yet once again, half-shamed to speak again, 
 Pausing as one who, having asked for help, 
 And gained it, fears, though wanting more, to ask, 
 The seeker uttered all his deep desire. 
 
 " Thy words give comfort, Father : I can look 
 With less despair on those poor heathen souls 
 That throng around me. I can now believe, 
 As my dear master taught me, that the death 
 Of Christ our Lord availed for all the world 
 To purchase peace and pardon. I can feel 
 One common bond of brotherhood with all : 
 They too are ransomed, and the Light that shines 
 On us illumines them. And yet there floats 
 (Bear with me, Father, if I speak it out) 
 A vague, dim doubt around me. Deem not, then, 
 My thoughts too bold or subtle ; but there comes 
 This question, and I cannot find reply : 
 ' If this be so, if all alike shall stand 
 On equal ground before the great white throne, 
 If heathen outcasts gain eternal life, 
 By law unwritten, or by deeds of love, 
 What needs this message of the Cross of Christ ? 
 Why leave we not the heathen as they are, 
 Sure that they too will reach the goal at last ? 
 Why go our teachers forth from land to land, 
 Braving all terrors of the shore, or deep, 
 To call those wandering, shipwrecked souls to God,* 
 When, as it seems, they spend their strength in vain, 
 
42 LAZARUS. 
 
 And add no jot to all their chance of bliss ?' 
 And yet once more : the souls that stand 
 
 demned, 
 
 Or by the Word revealed, or Law unwrit, 
 Yet graven in their hearts, what fate is theirs ? 
 Are they for ever doomed to penal fires ? 
 Does God delight to torture ? Can it be 
 His love abates when sudden stroke of death 
 Cuts off the soul whom that forbearing Love 
 Was leading to repentance ? Here on earth 
 The will is plastic : stained with many a crime 
 It yet can struggle upward, and renew 
 Its vigour like the eagle's. Dare we say 
 That freedom ends with death ? Has God's decree 
 For ever fixed the casual mood of soul 
 Of that last moment ? Does His will condemn 
 To endless sin ? Or welcomes He, at last, 
 When sin no longer reigns, the wandering soul 
 That wakes through death to life? Oh, glorious 
 
 thought, 
 
 That wraps the future with a golden dawn, 
 Where old familiar words and new-born hopes 
 Seem melting into one ! ' The Son of God, 
 Destroys the works of Sin, the power of Death ; ' 
 ' Great was the trespass, greater still the love.' 
 * A time shall come when all shall pass away, 
 All foes o'ercome, and guilt and darkness gone, 
 And God be all in all, the eternal Love 
 
LAZARUS. 43 
 
 Prevailing, conquering, binding men to God.' 
 Ah me ! my Father ; now I dream my dream 
 Of one broad, mighty, everlasting peace, 
 The concord of a universe at rest ; 
 And now once more the mists and shadows come 
 Between my soul and God, and fear shuts out 
 That full assured hope, and sterner words 
 Come back unbidden, shattering all my joy. 
 Broad were the lines He traced, the Lord of Love, 
 The sheep and goats, the lost ones and the saved ; 
 And evermore, when speaking of the doom 
 Of that great day, He spake of endless woe, 
 The quenchless fire, the worm that cannot die, 
 The punishment which with the life must be 
 Co-equal, co-eternal. And yet, and yet ; 
 (Oh! pardon thou these wandering thoughts of 
 
 mine) 
 
 New words recur of hope. One only sin, 
 So spake He, neither in the world that is, 
 Nor in the world that comes, can ever gain 
 Forgiveness. Only of the traitor's soul 
 Were the words spoken, ' It were good for him 
 That he had ne'er been born.' I ask myself, 
 Might not that doom, if former fears were true, 
 Be written on the universe of God, 
 On all the countless myriads that have passeu 
 In darkness to the grave ? If thou canst solve 
 These riddles, O my Father ! if thy soul 
 
44 LAZARUS. 
 
 Has gone beyond the doubts that come and go, 
 Unfold the secret. One has told, I know, 
 Of torments lasting their appointed time, 2 
 Of fires that, burning, cleanse the sin-stained soul, 
 Of cycles strange through which our spirits pass, 
 Tasting new forms of life, or man or brute, 
 Tested and tried till they too rise to God, 
 And in the fields Elysian find their rest, 
 Or lose their separate being, to the All 
 Returning once again. But these, perchance, 
 Are but a poet's fancies. Thou canst guide 
 My tottering feet through these bewildering mists 
 In which I wander, wavering and perplexed, 
 Staggering like drunken man in fevered dreams." 
 
 Then Eleazar spake. " Ah me ! my son, 
 Thy questions come as fast and wild as winds 
 Of autumn ; and they vex thee, as the blasts 
 Vex the deep waters of a mountain lake. 
 Here once again I bid thee walk by faith : 
 Nor I, nor thou, can see the mystery clear. 
 But wonder no>, if thoughts should lead thee on, 
 Each starting from divinest, wisest words, 
 To issues which agree not. Evermore 
 We see the sides of truth, and cannot grasp, 
 So low we stand, the greatness of the whole. 
 Thus God elects, yet man is free to choose ; 
 And God, foreseeing evil, lets it be, 
 
LAZARUS. 45 
 
 Yet evil is not His ; and Christ our Lord, 
 
 One with the Father in His boundless might, 
 
 Is one with us in all that makes us weak ; 
 
 And God hath shown His Love in sending Christ, 
 
 Yet Christ by death hath reconciled to God 
 
 The creatures else condemned ; and God is One, 
 
 Yet evermore we praise the threefold Name, 
 
 The Father, and the Spirit, and the Son. 
 
 So fares it with all mysteries of God ; 
 
 Men cannot bring them to the rule and line 
 
 Of earthly wisdom, or with subtle art 
 
 Build up their systems. Broad, o'erarching all, 
 
 They float above us, and with hopes or fears 
 
 We watch their changing aspects. And we need 
 
 Both hopes and fears : we may not cast aside 
 
 One truth that Christ has spoken, may not say 
 
 To all the heedless souls that turn from God, 
 
 * Go on, and sin ; the end is still the same, 
 
 The journey only longer ; ' dare not close 
 
 The door of hope which Christ Himself throws 
 
 wide, 
 
 Nor lose from sight the many stripes, and few, 
 The lighter, heavier woes. Our feebler thoughts 
 Dwell on the outward symbols of the doom, 
 The worm, the fire, the darkness, and the scourge . 
 But thou, my son, hast learnt the doom itsel 
 These are but signs and figures of the true, 
 Shadows of things that are. The enduring pain 
 
46 LAZARUS. 
 
 Is memory of evil seen at last 
 
 As evil, hateful, loathsome. Pleasant sins, 
 
 Which here the doer of the wrong recalls 
 
 With faint vibrations of the former sense, 
 
 There evermore are present to the soul 
 
 In all their foulness, and we feel the wrath 
 
 Eternal then unveiled. And hence the woe 
 
 Is endless : there we cannot drug our souls, 
 
 Or blot from sight the ever hateful past, 
 
 The feigned semblance, or the open shame. 
 
 We cannot change that past ; through all the years 
 
 Its woe is with us, shading all the life 
 
 In gloom of twilight, or in thickest night 
 
 Deepening the blackness. To the souls that sinned 
 
 In ignorance of God, His grace may come 
 
 In mercy wide and free, revealing Light 
 
 To those in darkness, blotting out the guilt 
 
 Of sins of wild confusion, leaving still, 
 
 Through endless aeons, all the inward pain 
 
 Which waits on conscious sin. To cancel that 
 
 Were to undo the eternal work of God, 
 
 And leave them still in blindness. And to dream, 
 
 As some have dreamt, of agony of sense, 
 
 The burning flame, and thick-ribbed ice in turn, 
 
 As having power to purify and cleanse, 
 
 As greater terrors than the accusing thoughts, 
 
 The voice that speaks in thunder, and the wrath 
 
 Eternal of the All-knowing and All-good, 
 
LAZARUS. 47 
 
 This is to take the shadow for the truth, 
 And live in outward symbols. Golden throne, 
 Bright gates of pearl, and walls of amethyst, 
 The pure clear river, and the mystic tree, 
 These are but tokens of the inward bliss, 
 The vision of our God, to pure hearts given 
 As life, and peace, and joy. And so the woe, 
 Which makes the doom of evil, is to see 
 That face averted. - God, whose Name is Love, 
 Condemns the unloving : so we see in Him 
 That Light eternal, that consuming Fire ; 
 And still the question meets us as of old, 
 * What child of man can face that ceaseless flame, 
 And dwell with burnings everlastingly ? ' 
 And evermore, as once from Prophet's lips, 
 The strange, bold answer reaches unto us, 
 'He who the truth hath spoken, right hath done, 
 Who, fearing God, has conquered self and sin, 
 He need not fear the lire.' It burns and burns, 
 Consuming what is worthless, cleansing still 
 The pure, bright gold, the treasure of our God. 
 
 "And if these thoughts still leave a darkened space 
 Through which no light can pierce, if awful words 
 Speak of persistent evil, wills that, fixed 
 In hate, defiance, scorn, reject the Light, 
 Increasing through the endless age their woe, 
 As adding still fresh deeds of deeper guilt, 
 Who then am I to question and to judge? 
 
48 LAZARUS. 
 
 I bow before the judgment, and am dumb; 
 
 I cannot tell how evil first began, 
 
 Or why through all the mystery of the world 
 
 It runs its course, and all creation groans 
 
 In bondage, panting, struggling to be free. 
 
 I cannot tell if it shall cease to be, 
 
 Or when or how, the final victory won, 
 
 The conquering Christ shall yield his throne to 
 
 God; 
 
 Or if the conquest shall destroy the works 
 Of sin and death, or leave them as they are, 
 His curse upon them. All I know is this, 
 That God is holy, and that righteous wrath 
 Must fall for ever on the soul that sins; 
 That God is Love, and willeth not the death, 
 Or here, or there, of any soul of man. 
 And if I see not how, in secret depths, 
 (The light and darkness melting into one) 
 The discords of the world a*e harmonised, 
 The truths that clash brought once again to peace, 
 I find my stay in old, familiar words, 
 The key-note of my life, and all its thoughts, 
 True of that life through all its wondrous course, 
 True of the world through all its circling years, 
 True of the endless ages as they pass, 
 Words that rebuke the doubter, bow our pride, 
 Refresh the mourner, strengthen all our prayers, 
 The words for thee, my son, when vexing thoughts 
 
LAZARUS. 49 
 
 Distract thy soul, and fill thy heart with fears ; 
 Make answer thou, with firm unwavering faith, 
 Against those doubts, as Christ made answer, once, 
 ' Impossible with man, but not with God.' 
 
 " For thee, at least, the path is clearly traced : 
 Do thou thy Master's bidding. If He came, 
 Enduring all the torture and the death, 
 To speak to all men of His Father's love, 
 Thou, too, if thou hast learnt to think His thoughts, 
 Must speak to them of Him. Thou may'st not 
 
 leave 
 
 Those souls to wander in their hopeless night, 
 Nor make the mercy of thy God a cloak 
 For coward sloth, nor, rapt in visions high, 
 Forget the present. If thou see'st the wrong, 
 Rebuke it; if the many sin and die, 
 In pity to their souls, hold not thy peace, 
 But warn them of the Everlasting Fire, 
 And win them with the Everlasting Love. 
 And oh ! my son, beware lest pride of heart, 
 Or yearning pity, or thy zeal for God, 
 Lead thee to change His order. Not in vain, 
 Taught He at first, by fear of endless woe, 
 In parable and drama shadowing forth 
 The doom of evil. Men must learn to hate 
 The accursed self that keeps their souls from God ; 
 Must learn to feel the burden of their guilt, 
 As measured by the woe which God assigns 
 
 E 
 
50 LAZARUS. 
 
 Jn that dark prison which the Eternal Love 
 Hath ordered in its wisdom and its might : 
 And some may find the lesson hard to learn, 
 And, knowing not thy thoughts, may miss their way, 
 If thou should'st leave the simple, open path 
 Which Christ hath trodden. Teach as He hath 
 
 taught, 
 
 Not halving truths, in haste of jealous strife, 
 Nor twisting words awry with subtle art, 
 Not speaking where the voice of Christ was dumb, 
 Nor silent where He spake. Judge thou thyself, 
 And leave the greater task to greater power ; 
 Commit thy friends, thy brothers, yea, thy foes, 
 The myriads, past, and present, and to come, 
 To Him who sitteth on the Eternal Throne, 
 The Son of Man, and yet the Lord of All, 
 The Judge, the Priest, the Saviour, and the Friend. 
 Thou canst not gauge His drear abyss of wrath, 
 Thou canst not fathom all His boundless love, 
 Thou canst not track His footsteps on the deep ; 
 And still if doubt, or grief, or hope, or fear 
 Perplex thee for the future or the past, 
 Cling to His cross for shelter, own thy guilt, 
 Thy shame, thy blindness, and with veiled face, 
 Low in the dust, be silent and adore." 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN 
 CONVERT. 
 
 A.D. 57. 
 
 THESE are strange times; I stand as half- 
 perplexed 
 
 Which way to turn amid the war of creeds : 
 New names are heard among us Moses, Christ ; 
 Our fathers knew them not, and yet the suns 
 Rose brightly on them, and the glad showers fell, 
 And life was pleasant on the vine-clad hills. 
 They loved and were beloved ; they toiled and 
 
 died. 
 
 Why has this change come o'er us ? Why disturb 
 The good old order of the earlier days ? 
 Why should this flood of vexing questions come, 
 Disturbing all our peace, and making life 
 One weary struggle after distant joy, 
 One painful journey through a trackless waste ? 
 
 And yet the world was evil. This I know, 
 Though I have seen but little : I have heard 
 In distant Attaleia, by the sea, 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 Of those great cities of the western world 
 Corinth the rich, and Rome magnificent, 
 And Athens, home of Wisdom ; and the tales 
 Men told me made me shudder. Lust and greed, 
 Envy and hate, and all things rank and vile, 
 Grew rampant in their baseness. None were true, 
 None brave or pure ; before an emperor's throne, 
 Adoring as a god the tyrant lord, 
 Baser than all his slaves, men bowed their heads 
 In self-debasing homage. Truth was crushed ; 
 And those who might have helped her silent stood, 
 Or, wrapt in idle musings, reasoned much 
 Of destiny, and happiness, and chance, 
 (None wiser for their talk), perplexing more 
 The tangled problems of this life of ours. 
 
 We, too, have seen in our Galatian fields 
 What that great world was like. To these our hills 
 Praetors have come to snatch from toil-worn hands 
 Their scanty earnings, and the locust brood 
 Of those fierce legions ravaged all our vales. 
 We dared not murmur : we could only bear 
 Our ills in silence, or at best might bribe 
 The shameless ruler, glad enough to keep 
 The little that he left us, shuddering still 
 As the proud Roman's wandering glance surveyed 
 The goodliest and the noblest of our youth, 
 Our sons and daughters, picking out his slaves, 
 That they, too, might be vile, and eat the bread 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 53 
 
 Of loathsome bondage. Yes, the world went wrong ; 
 
 Hope's dreams had faded ; what the poets sang 
 
 Of great Augustus was belied by time. 
 
 No golden age had come : the old disease 
 
 Was still unhealed, the old crimes re-appeared. 
 
 A change was needed ; yet the skies were dark, 
 
 And no bright streaks of dawn were in the East ; 
 
 The oracles were silent, and the gods 
 
 Seemed waxing feeble ; and our faith grew weak, 
 
 According to their weakness. Hymns of praise 
 
 Were but an idle rending of the air ; 
 
 And as for prayers who dreamt the gods would 
 
 hear? 
 Who feared their vengeance ? Could we hope that 
 
 they 
 
 Would rouse the world from its decrepit age, 
 And make it young again ? And so decay 
 Went on to rottenness ; and mists of doubt 
 Hung over all our souls, as o'er a fen 
 The dank fog clings, and poisons while it chills ; 
 And when we asked the question, " What is truth ? " 
 No voice made answer from the eternal depths. 
 
 And yet among our people, on the heights 
 Of Phrygia's hills, and round the ancient shrines 
 Of old Galatian towns, there lingered still 
 Some traces of the wild, mysterious power, 
 The spell that bound our fathers to their faith. 
 
J. THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 The beardless priests of Cybele would wave 
 
 Their wands, and clash their cymbals, 1 and their 
 
 song, 
 
 First stealing through the brain with subtle power, 
 Waking each nerve to tension, then with floods 
 Of surging sound tumultuous, sweeping on, 
 Like some great river foaming in its pride, 
 Filled all the soul with madness ; and the charm, 
 In one wild, dizzy, whirling, frenzied dance, 
 Drew all who worshipped; and the drops poured 
 
 down 
 
 From pallid brows and languid limbs, till night 
 Fell on them with its darkness, covering deeds 
 Yet darker ; and the morning grey looked in 
 On haggard faces, spectral forms, and eyes 
 Ghastly and vacant, drunk, but not with wine. 
 I, too, have known all this, have felt the blood 
 Rush like a boiling torrent through my veins, 
 Half-tempted, in the madness of the hour, 
 To be as Atys was, and like her priests 
 To serve the Goddess-mother ; but the sense 
 Of memory, waking in me, held me back, 
 The hopes of many summers, and the face 
 Of one fair, bright-eyed maiden on the hills. 
 
 So life went on. Near thirty years had passed, 
 When through our village came the strangest band 
 That ever travelled through Galatia's vales : 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 55 
 
 No merchants they, with pearls, or purple robes, 
 Or precious spikenard in the milk-white vase, 
 Or golden goblets ; no centurions, come 
 To take our numbers, and to tax our farms ; 
 Nor yet as pilgrims hasting to the shrine 
 Of Pessinus, where Cybele holds sway, 
 Mother of all the gods, with crown of towers. 
 Like none of these they came, those travellers 
 
 three ; 
 
 One in full age, dark-eyed, with eagle face, 
 Like those whom in Pisidian synagogues 
 Men know as Rabbis. Grave he was, and oft 
 Could speak to touch men's hearts, and stir their 
 
 fears 
 
 With words of coming woe : yet not of him 
 Thought we most then, or most remember now. 
 The next was young and slender, scarcely past 
 His eighteenth summer, gentle as a girl, 
 Shrinking from each rude gaze, or jesting word ; 
 A hidden fire within his lustrous eyes, 
 Telling of musings deep ; and pale, thin cheeks, 
 Bearing their witness of the midnight watch 
 And fast prolonged, and conquest over self; 
 Timotheos, so they called him, won our love, 
 And paid it back with tears : yet not of him 
 Thought we most then, or most remember now. 
 The third who journeyed with them, weak and 
 
 worn, 
 
56 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 Blear-eyed, dim-visioned, bent and bowed with pain. 
 
 We looked upon with wonder. Not for him 
 
 The praise of form heroic, supple limbs, 
 
 The glory of the sculptor as he moulds 
 
 The locks of Zeus o'erspreading lofty brows ; 
 
 Apollo, the Far-darter, in the pride 
 
 Of manhood's noblest beauty, or the grace 
 
 Of sandalled Hermes, messenger of gods : 
 
 Not thus he came, but clad in raiment worn, 
 
 Of roughest texture, bearing many stains 
 
 Of age and travel. In his hand he bore 
 
 A staff, on which he leant as one whose limbs 
 
 Have lost before their time the strength of youth ; 
 
 And underneath his arm a strange, old book, 
 
 Whose mystic letters seemed for him the words 
 
 Of wisdom and of truth. And oft he read, 
 
 In solemn cadence, words that thrilled his soul, 
 
 And, lighting that worn face with new-born gleam, 
 
 Bade him go on rejoicing. 
 
 So they came ; 
 
 So entered he our town ; but, ere the sun 
 Had lit the Eastern clouds, a fever's chill 
 Fell on him ; parched thirst, and darting throbs 
 Of keenest anguish racked those weary limbs ; 
 His brow seemed circled with a crown of pain ; 
 And oft, pale, breathless, as if life had fled, 
 He looked like one in ecstasy, who sees 
 What others see not, to whose ears a voice, 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 57 
 
 Which others hear not, floats from sea or sky : 
 
 And broken sounds would murmur from his lips 
 
 Of glory wondrous, sights ineffable, 
 
 The cry of " Abba, Father," and the notes 
 
 Of some strange, solemn chant of other lands. 
 
 So stricken, prostrate, pale, the traveller lay, 
 
 So stript of all the comeliness of form, 
 
 Men might have spurned and loathed him, passing 
 
 on 
 
 To lead their brighter life. And yet we stayed ; 
 We spurned him not, nor loathed ; through all the 
 
 shrouds 
 
 Of poverty and sickness we could see 
 The hero-soul, the presence as of One 
 Whom then we knew not. When the pain was 
 
 sharp, 
 
 And furrowed brows betrayed the strife within, 
 Then was he gentlest. Even to our slaves 
 He spake as brothers, winning all their hearts 
 By that unwonted kindness. Those who came 
 To give some casual help, the grape's fresh juice, 
 Or golden fruit from Pontus, found a spring 
 Of new-born feeling flooding all their souls ; 
 The careless, sportive youths, hard-toiling men, 
 And mothers worn with age and household work. 
 And children smiling in their infant glee, 
 Would gather round his couch ; and each and all 
 Found it their highest blessing but to soothe 
 
58 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 One throb of anguish, and (could such things be) 
 Would fain have offered health, and strength, and 
 
 youth. 
 Would fain have given their own bright, gleaming 
 
 eyes, 
 And walked in darkness, so that he might see. 
 
 And then, as strength returned, he spake to us 
 As none e'er spake before : " I find you friends ; 
 God's law of love is written on your hearts ; 
 Ye seek the Unknown, the Lord of Earth and 
 
 Heaven, 
 
 The Father of us all. And yet I see 
 In every home the forms of household gods ; 
 Ye bow before dumb idols. Vain deceit, 
 Transmitted from your fathers, wraps you round ; 
 Ye know not that the Lord your God is One, 
 Not far off, dwelling on Olympian hills, 
 Beyond the furthest Ocean's western glow, 
 Or down in shadowy realms of Hades dark, 
 But near, around, within you. Turn,- oh ! turn 
 To Him who seeks you, calls you. He has spread 
 Through all the world the tokens of His love, 
 The showers from Heaven, and fruitful years, and 
 
 joy 
 
 Of vintage and of harvest. In the soul 
 Of man himself He wakens solemn dread, 
 And questionings that stir the depths of life, 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 59 
 
 And yearnings after peace, the sense of guilt, 
 Vague hopes and vaguer fears. Yet men are blind, 
 Blind the untaught, and blinder still the wise, 
 By wisdom missing God. But through the world 
 His purpose runs ; and when the time had come, 
 And Jew and Greek had learnt the bitter truth 
 That sin and death enslaved them, then He sent, 
 Born in our flesh, in nature one with us, 
 His Sou, His well-beloved, to set us free." 
 
 Then told he of the works of One who lived 
 In Galilee, a Prophet, yea, and more 
 Than prophet e'er had been, for grace and truth 
 Illumined all His life. He came to heal 
 Each ill of suffering men, to loose the chains 
 Of custom, and to bid the oppressed be free, 
 To tell them of a Father's love, and bind 
 Their tyrant and destroyer. So He worked 
 For three short years. And then against Him rose 
 His nation's priests and rulers, cutting short 
 The life that shamed them. On the cursed tree 
 He died, as die the robber and the slave. 
 They knew not what they did: the blood that 
 
 streamed 
 From those blest wounds was like a God's, and 
 
 Love 
 
 Was mighty in that death to ransom all, 
 The countless generations of the past, 
 Those, who now walk the earth, and all to come, 
 
60 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 Through circling ages. Death, and then the grave, 
 
 Came as they come to all ; but not for Him 
 
 The drear abyss of Hades. Over Him 
 
 Death could claim no dominion. In His might, 
 
 As Son of God He rose ; as Son of Man 
 
 Ascended up on high, and liveth there, 
 
 A Priest, a Friend, hereafter Lord and Judge. 
 
 " He claims you as His own ;" so ran the words 
 Of that strange preacher when his tale was done ; 
 " In Him you may find pardon, as even I 
 Have found it for my trespass, darker far 
 Than you have ever known ; for I blasphemed 
 That holy Name ; I bound, and scourged, and 
 
 stoned 
 The saints who owned Him Lord: and yet He 
 
 turned 
 
 On me His pitying look. In vision strange, 
 Within me and without, He met my soul, 
 And showed me to myself, and bade me know 
 The glory of His cross. And now I go, 
 Bearing that cross through all the lands of earth, 
 And bidding all the nations turn and look 
 On Him the Crucified. He died for you ; 
 For you He rose again ; for you He lives, 
 And pleads for you before His Father's throne. 
 Easy His yoke, His burden light. To love, 
 Repent, believe, is all He asks of you : 
 His simplest gifts in nature come as signs 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 6l 
 
 And pledges of His love. The running stream 
 That purifies the flesh shall cleanse the soul ; 
 The daily bread, the wine that glads the heart, 
 Are by His great command the flesh, the blood, 
 He gives to be our life ; the pledges true 
 Of fellowship with God's great charity." 
 
 We listened. Some still doubted ; others mocked, 
 As though a dreamer spake, with idle tales 
 Lulling men's minds to slumber. I for one, 
 And others with me, felt that God had sent 
 His messenger, that these glad tidings came 
 To call us to His kingdom ; and we owned 
 The Christ of whom he told us. Then the two, 
 Silvanus and Timotheos, led us down 
 To where the river, in its winding curves, 
 Leaves a smooth-margined bay. With trembling 
 
 sense 
 
 Of some great change impending, we drew near ; 
 Naked we stood for that our second birth 
 As at our first, in spirit putting off 
 The flesh-stained garments of our sinful youth : 
 Then entered we the waters ; " IN THE NAME, 
 THRICE-BLESSED, OF THE FATHER, AND THE SON, 
 AND OF THE HOLY SPIRIT " (so they spake 
 The mystic words), and o'er us closed the stream, 
 As the grave closes, and we rose again, 
 (As Christ, our Master, on that Easter morn), 
 
62 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 New-born, new creatures, chosen, heirs of God. 
 
 The names were lofty, yet they spake them out, 
 As doubting nothing, and though memory fails 
 And thoughts of that high hour are grown confused 
 With the world's wear, and all the earth-born cares 
 That since have vexed our souls, I, too, believe 
 I felt that moment stirrings of a life 
 Till then unknown, the purpose fixed and strong, 
 (As when a soldier joins a noble band 
 Of warriors true) with Christ to live and die, 
 My Lord, my Leader, yea, my King, my God 
 
 'Twas done, and in the newness of that life 
 Some few days glided by. We lived alone, 
 In silent thought retracing all the past ; 
 And then we met once more. At eventide, 
 When the Jews' Sabbath drew towards its close 
 (So heard we from our teachers, for no word 
 Bade us to keep that Sabbath), 2 all the West 
 Yet purple, we, the new disciples, met 
 That pale, worn teacher in the upper room, 
 His home for those few days. A simple meal 
 Was set before us, cakes of bread, and wine, 
 Such as our peasants drink. That bread he blest, 
 Over that cup gave thanks, and we partook, 
 (The new-born sense of kindred breaking down 
 All barriers of the past) the rich, the poor, 
 The slave, the freeman, foes of many years, 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 63 
 
 Husbands and wives, the fathers, and the sons, 
 We all drew near, as sharers in a life 
 Above our own, and so embracing all. 
 Oh, happiest hour, of memories full of peace, 
 And love ineffable, and brightest hopes, 
 Which eve^. yet can gladden ! 
 
 Yet there came 
 
 A moment higher still. Upon our heads 
 Those feeble hands were laid, and through our 
 
 frames, 
 
 With strange vibrations of a rushing flood 
 Of thoughts and powers fresh kindling into life, 
 THE SPIRIT came upon us. From our lips 
 Burst the strange, mystic speech of other lands, 
 We, too, cried, " Abba ! Lord of Sabaoth ! " 
 We, too, could raise the Hallelujah chant, 
 And from our feeble tongues, in wondrous tones, 
 As of the voice of trumpet, loud and long, 
 The mighty " Maranatha " smote the air. 3 
 We knew not all we spake, but evermore 
 The clear, loud accents thrilled through all the soul ; 
 We praised, adoring. Men might count our words 
 As wild and aimless, yet to us they brought 
 The joy ecstatic of the eternal choirs, 
 The hymns of angels at the throne of God. 
 And others, calmer in their strength of heart, 
 Received new power to read the thoughts that 
 
 stirred 
 
64 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 In each man's breast, to speak with words of fire, 
 
 Swift-darting as an arrow to their mark, 
 
 To say to this one, " Thou hast sinned, thy deed 
 
 Of secret shame is blazoned on thy brow ; " 
 
 To that, " Fear not ; thy hidden tears are known, 
 
 Thy yearning after peace ; and God, who loves 
 
 The contrite heart, has pardoned all thy sins." 
 
 He left us, and for years we saw him not, 
 But for one passing visit of a day. 
 Our life resumed its calm, the even months 
 Went on, but purer, brighter than before : 
 A little band of brothers, so we lived 
 As in the world, not of it, honouring all, 
 Yet loving each the other. Not for us 
 The idol-feast, the revel, and the song ; 
 But true work duly done, and converse grave 
 As though the Lord were listening. 4 And we met 
 At sunset still in each returning week, 
 To break that bread of life, that wine to drink, 
 As He, the Lord commanded. But the power 
 Of that first day returned not. That full burst 
 Of prophecy was hushed : the wondrous Tongues 
 In wild, mysterious sweetness came and went, 
 Each echo weaker as the months passed on, 
 Until at last they ceased, and we became 
 Half weary with the sameness of our lives. 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 65 
 
 And then there came new travellers, grave and stern, 
 Rabbis, and scribes, and teachers of the law, 
 Trained at Gamaliel's feet. Around their robes 
 That swept the ground, the broad, bright fringe of 
 
 blue 
 Proclaimed their faith, and o'er each arm there 
 
 twined 
 
 The sacred scrolls, and when they stood and prayed, 
 O'er brow and face they drew the mystic veil, 
 As Moses did of old. They came from far, 
 They told us, from Jerusalem the blest ; 
 They, too, were brethren, worshippers of Christ, 
 And from the high Apostles went they forth, 
 From Cephas, James, and John, with power to rule 
 The Churches, and to perfect all that lacked. 
 They came among us, asking how we lived, 
 What Paul had done for us ; and when they heard 
 Our simple tale, they lifted up their hands, 
 And tore their garments ; " What, ye fools, and 
 
 blind? 
 
 Ye read the Law, and break it ? Know ye not 
 That not one tittle of that Law shall fail ; 
 And dare ye choose, in your o'erweening pride, 
 Now this, now that, to keep or cast away ; 
 And, owning Abraham's God, to slight the seal 
 Of Abraham's faith ? Hath not His voice declared, 
 ' The soul that is not circumcised shall die ? ' 
 Yet ye remain as aliens, and the laws 
 
 F 
 
66 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 Which God proclaimed from Sinai ye despise. 
 You tell us, l Paul thus taught.' We know the man, 
 The apostate dreamer, breaking down the wall 
 Which God hath built. We sent him forth to teach, 
 And, when we found him faithless, cast him off. 
 We know that tottering frame and trembling step, 
 True sign of wavering counsels, and a voice 
 That tunes itself according to the time. 
 He, too, can speak as we do, when he seeks 
 To please the Jews, his brethren. Know ye not 
 That young Timotheos ? Him he circumcised 
 Who bids you trust in faith without the Law ; 
 And he who boasts of grace and light within, 
 Who bids you keep no Sabbaths, hold no feasts, 
 He came from Corinth to our Temple-courts, 
 The Nazarite's vow upon his shaven head, 
 A pilgrim at our feast of Pentecost." 
 
 Their words seemed strong. We knew not what 
 
 to say ; 
 
 And some of us were weak, by subtle spell 
 Bewitched and overcome ; and some held back, 
 Stedfast, though trembling, to the truth they 
 
 loved, 
 
 These, frowned upon, shut out, as self-condemned ; 
 Those, courted, favoured, honoured, led about 
 As proselytes indeed. I took my place 
 With those who followed Paul. With heavy heart 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 67 
 
 And thought half-doubting, still I kefpt my ground. 
 
 I saw no fruit that answered to their boasts, 
 
 No spirit-stirring power, or peace, or love ; 
 
 But envy, strife, debate, the gathering clouds, 
 
 Forerunners of a storm : in every home 
 
 Three against two divided, and the Church 
 
 Crumbled and broken by the war of sects. 
 
 They could not read our hearts : no searching 
 
 words 
 
 Of insight or of pity won their way 
 To stubborn souls. They told not of the Cross, 
 With all its power to bless ; but still they spake 
 Of Moses, and the Sabbath, and the rules 
 And customs of the elders, joying most 
 When greetings loud of " Rabbi " met their ears, 
 And plenteous offerings filled their spacious bags, 
 And men bowed down in homage as they passed. 
 
 And now there comes this letter. Bold and strong 
 Are those clear notes of warning. " Not from man, 
 Or man's consent, have I this Gospel preached, 
 And man shall not control me." Half in love, 
 And half in pity, pours the tide of thought, 
 Its currents strangely mingled. Much mounts up 
 To heights I cannot reach. Its subtle art 
 In part bewilders ; how the Law, of old, 
 Was given by angels, 'stablished in the hand 
 Of one who stood half-way 'twixt men and God, 
 The mediator, Moses, and in this 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 Must yield the palm to that diviner word 
 Which God himself in all his oneness spake 
 To Abraham and his seed, that seed being Christ, 
 (No Mediator there) 5 , and we in Him, 
 Sharing his Sonship, recognised as heirs : 
 How Hagar, wandering in the desert wild, 
 The bond-slave with her son, had shadowed forth 
 The rocks of Sinai terrible and dread, 
 The bondage of Jerusalem that is ; 
 While Sara, princess-mother of the free, 
 Claims as her children all the chosen seed, 
 Heirs of the heavenly city : once again, 
 How that the Law was as the slave who leads 
 The wayward boy to school, and keeps in bounds, 
 Chastising, warning, checking, till at last 
 The one true Teacher comes, and, heir of all, 
 The boy starts up to manhood, and is free. 
 All this I wondered at, as dazed and stunned 
 By thoughts so strangely new ; but much is plain 
 That he may run who reads. He will not yield 
 One jot to those his foes, and scorn for scorn 
 With usury repays. In tenderest words, 
 Reminding us of all our former love, 
 He chides us for our folly, bids us know 
 That they who seek to glory in our flesh, 
 In cutting that do cut us off from Christ ; 
 That not through zeal for God, but fear of man, 
 They build again the poor, weak thoughts of old, 
 
THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 69 
 
 And prove themselves transgressors. Yea, at last 
 In bolder speech, with touch of sarcasm rough, 
 He tells those preachers of a fleshly rite 
 That he, for his part, wishes they would make 
 Their work more thorough, holding rank with those 
 Who serve the Goddess-mother at her shrines ; e 
 Fit end for those who linger in the past, 
 The dead, decaying past, and look not on 
 To all the freedom of the age to come. 
 
 I too will claim that freedom. Every pulse 
 Of old affection kindles into life ; 
 The mists of doubt are scattered ; and the Truth 
 Shines clearer than before, and every name 
 Of our old worship, or of Hebrew law, 
 Yields to the one great Name, no longer strange, 
 Of Christ the Lord, the Brother of mankind, 
 Their Saviour and their King. Lord, hear our 
 
 prayer : 
 
 If ever we have bowed before Thy Cross, 
 If ever we have looked upon Thy wounds, 
 When Paul's full speech made present once again 
 What passed on Golgotha, Oh ! grant us, Lord, 
 With Paul, to claim thy Spirit, yea, to feel 
 The travail-pangs, till in our soul be formed 
 The new, diviner man ; and all our life 
 Pass on, unwavering, to the Eternal Home. 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 WELL ! the escape was narrow. Seven long 
 weeks 
 
 I lay expecting death, for Pilate's wrath 
 Was kindled into frenzy. I had dared, 
 When that proud tyrant 'gainst the Lord of Hosts 
 Had raised his banners, and with hands profane 
 To build his stately tower by Siloam's pool, 
 Had seized our sacred Corban, 1 I had dared, 
 I say, to head the Zealots in their fight. 
 They chose me for their leader ; found in me, 
 Robber and outlaw though I be, the man 
 They needed for their struggle. But the spears 
 Of Rome's strong legions smote us, and we fled ; 
 And I, with some few others of our band, 
 Was seized, and marked for death. Do thou, 
 
 O Lord ! 
 
 For this my zeal forgive me all my sins ; 
 And when I die receive me to Thyself 
 In Abraham's bosom, where the heroes old 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 71 
 
 Who fought against the Syrian rest in peace. 
 
 I need make some atonement. With these hands 
 
 I have made women childless, burnt the huts 
 
 Of peasants, seized the traveller on his way, 
 
 And left him stript and wounded : this I own ; 
 
 Yet am I not so base as others are ; 
 
 For never have I bowed the knee in prayer 
 
 To any heathen god, and still have kept 
 
 The creed my Rabbi father taught my youth ; * 
 
 And ever, when the solemn seasons came, 
 
 We went in pilgrim-guise to keep the feast, 
 
 And thronged the Temple courts. A double gain 
 
 Those journeys brought : we worshipped, and we 
 
 robbed. 
 
 The pilgrims coming with their gifts and gold, 
 From North and South, from furthest East and 
 
 West, 
 
 But chiefly the rich proselytes of Rome 
 We marked them for our prey. But most we loved 
 To glut at once our rapine and our hate, 
 And, laying hold of some centurion proud, 
 To bind him hand and foot, to seize his gold, 
 And mocking all his cries, by fear of death 
 To make him curse his gods, and, bending low, 
 Proclaim himself a convert. 'Twas a life 
 Of hair-breadth 'scapes, and ventures strange and 
 
 wild, 
 Now starved and naked, now with wine and mirth 
 
72 JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 Filled to our heart's content. And so we lived, 
 
 A band of brothers, not without the ties 
 
 Of equal risks and hopes, until that hour 
 
 When, as I said, the Roman soldiers seized 
 
 Our struggling troop, and we were doomed to death. 
 
 There lay I in my dungeon, bound with chains, 
 
 And soldiers keeping guard. No friends might 
 
 come 
 
 To give the robber-chief one kindly look, 
 Or tell him how the world went on without ; 
 And, those rough Romans speaking scarce a word 
 Of our old Hebrew, little reached my ears 
 Of what was passing, till the Paschal feast 
 Drew crowds of pilgrims. Then I heard the tramp 
 Of constant feet below my dungeon walls ; 
 And once a shout, the cry of eager boys 
 And Galilean peasants, and the throng 
 Of dwellers in our city. Loud they raised 
 Their clear Hosannas, blessing One they owned 
 As Son of David Israel's longed-for king. 
 And he passed by me, in that pageant strange, 
 Not riding in his chariot, or reclined 
 In stately litter, but as those of old, 
 Our judges, rode on asses, so did he ; 
 And, as he came, they shouted, and with palms 
 Fresh cut bestrewed the way. I heard the cry, 
 And said within myself, " This will not last ; 
 1 have seen many such. Rome's mighty arm 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 73 
 
 Will crush these rebel-kings out, one by one ; 
 And he who now rides on, whoe'er he be, 
 Will die as I shall die. Who knows ? Perchance 
 The self-same hour may witness both our deaths." 
 Then came a silence. For some nights and days 
 I nothing heard, but still expecting death, 
 Lay there in darkness ; when at last a voice 
 Was heard, in foreign accents, at my cell : 
 " Bar-Abbas, Pilate calls thee." " Now," I thought, 
 " My hour is come at last." I said my creed, 
 " Hear, Israel, hear, the Lord thy God is One," s 
 In haste, that I might die as Abraham's son, 
 And claim my place in Eden. Then I went, 
 Close following the centurion who had called ; 
 And as I drew toward the opening gate, 
 The wild, fierce murmur of the people smote 
 Upon my ears. I thought I heard my name 
 Mingled with cries and curses. Then I stood 
 Before great Pilate, in his purple robes, 
 Upon his pavement seated. And his voice, 
 As one half-choked with anger, shame, and grief, 
 Making me wonder, told me, " Thou art free ; 
 The people claim thee : go thy way and live/' 
 So strange it all appeared, I stood amazed, 
 As one who, waking from a dream, half doubts 
 Whether he still be sleeping ; but ere long 
 They told me all the story. " That poor king," 
 They said, " had roused the wrath of all our priests, 
 
74 JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 And all the hostile schools of rival Scribes, 
 Baffling their art, and laying low their pride, 
 And speaking still of judgments sharp and swift 
 As hanging o'er their heads. Among the Twelve, 
 His chosen friends and followers, one they found 
 A traitor ; and by night he led them forth 
 Across the Kedron to Gethsemane, 
 Just on the slope of Olivet. All hushed, 
 The city slept in moonlight. Every house 
 Had had its Paschal feast, when that armed band, 
 With lights and torches, followed on the track 
 By which the traitor led them. Then they seized 
 Their prisoner ; and in haste, at dead of night, 
 They summoned the great Council of our land 
 And found him guilty. Then to Pilate's hall 
 They led him (for they durst not, of themselves, 
 Pilate being present, put the man to death), 
 And clamouring loud, with charges swarming thick, 
 Pressed eager for his life. But Pilate's heart 
 Misgave him, and he would not. Well he knew 
 Their malice and their envy. And the hours 
 Passed on in wavering counsels : now he spake 
 In secret with the prisoner, half-inclined 
 To pity one so weak ; now sent him bound 
 To Herod for his trial ; then perplexed 
 And fearing, thought to win the people's heart 
 By offering them a prisoner, whom they would, 
 For freedom on the instant, doubting not 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 75 
 
 That they would choose the king whose pageant 
 
 proud 
 
 A few days since had swept along the streets. 
 When lo ! wild shouts of frenzy rent the air, 
 * Not this man, but Bar-Abbas ! ' So our priests, 
 Wily and wise, had planned their scheme before, 
 Knowing the people loved me for my zeal ; 
 And, seeing in me still a Rabbi's son, 
 They plotted for their order. So it was, 
 We stood there in the presence of the crowd, 
 That Galilean prisoner-king, and I, 
 Jesus Bar-Abbas, 4 I, in pride of strength, 
 Towering above the people by a head, 
 As Saul above the hosts of Israel ; 
 And he, that other Jesus, standing there, 
 Pale, worn, and crowned with thorns. I, free at last, 
 The robber and the murderer, shouts of praise 
 Still ringing in my ears, and he, the just, 
 (So Pilate owned him, and his silent calm 
 Bore the same witness), scourged, condemned to die, 
 Mocks, taunts, revilings adding stings to death. 
 
 At first the crowd received me, bore me on 
 As in a car of triumph ; then, half wild 
 With joy and wonder, following where they led, 
 I joined the crowd that, streaming through the gate, 
 Passed on to Golgotha. I stood and watched 
 The three led forth to death. All faint and weak, 
 And sinking 'neath the burden of his cross, 
 
76 JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 The prophet-teacher came. The other two 
 
 Were sharers with me in my outlaw life, 
 
 With me had plundered, revelled, dwelt in caves ; 
 
 Or in the forest-depths of Gilead's hills, 
 
 With me had dared defy our Roman lords, 
 
 With me were taken prisoners. Now their hour 
 
 Was come, yet still they quailed not. Hard and 
 
 bold, 
 
 They drank the spiced wine-cup, which benumbs 
 The nerves of sense, and through the reeling brain 
 Sends snatches of old songs, forgotten jests, 
 And mirth that mounts to madness. So they met 
 The torture of that hour : no cry of pain 
 Came from their lips when through the quivering 
 
 flesh 
 
 They drove the torturing nails. With brow com- 
 pressed 
 
 And look defiant, they endured the shame, 
 And hanging there, beneath the sultry sun, 
 Naked and bleeding, speechless bore it all. 
 And he was speechless too, the third, whose cross 
 Between them stood, but oh ! how wide the gulf 
 That lay between his silence, meek and calm, 
 Eyes lifted up to Heaven, and murmured prayer, 
 When those rough soldiers nailed them to the cross, 
 * Father, forgive them ' (so I caught the words), 
 'They know not what they do;' and that dumb 
 wrath, 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 77 
 
 The fiercer for repression, which in them 
 Crushed out all pity. Soon the contrast grew 
 More wondrous still. A love that conquered pain, 
 The joy of one who sees his work achieved, 
 The full compassion going forth to all, 
 These brightened all the furrows of that face 
 With glory from the Throne. But they, my friends, 
 When the first throbs were over, waxing bold, 
 (That well-drugged wine-draught rushing through 
 
 their veins) 
 
 With jest as rough, and laugh as loud and free, 
 As when of old our comrades met to feast 
 After the day's marauding, turned on him, 
 That silent sufferer, with reproach and scoff, 
 Re-echoing taunts that came from worthier lips, 
 From priests and scribes who stood in pride of 
 
 place, 
 
 Exulting o'er their victim ; ' Hail, O king ! 
 Thou Son of David on thy father's throne,' 
 (So spake they with mock homage) 'prove thy 
 
 strength, 
 
 Put forth thy might to vanquish all thy foes ; 
 If thou be Christ, Anointed of the Lord, 
 Come down unbleeding from the accursed tree, 
 And claim us as thine own.' I could not join 
 Those mockers in their taunts. ' He fills my place ;' 
 So thought I with myself. ' He dies for me ; 
 And but for Him I too were hanging there, 
 
78 JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 My sins upon my head. From me at least 
 He claims some pity.' So I silent stood : 
 But those, the other two, upon their trees, 
 Caught up the scoff, and with the keener zest 
 That torment gives to outrage, raised the cry, 
 * O Son of David, Lord of Abraham's seed, 
 
 King of Israel, save thyself and us ! ' 
 
 He heard, but answered not. One pitying look 
 He turned to those who mocked, one upward glance 
 Of love and prayer unspoken, and there fell 
 On him and them a silence. O'er the sky 
 A darkness stole, as when the sun's eclipse 
 Affrights the nations, and the mocks were hushed, 
 Till yet once more, as if to cheat his pain, 
 From one poor sufferer came the words of scorn, 
 
 1 Thou Son of David, save thyself and us ! ' 
 
 But now a change had come. No echoing voice 
 
 Spake from that other cross. In days of old, 
 
 I well remember, Dysmas had a touch 
 
 Of woman's softness in him, shrank from blood 
 
 Save when the fight was hot, and sometimes turned 
 
 To help the stript and plundered as they lay. 
 
 I call to mind some thirty summers back, 
 
 When first he came among us, brave and tall, 
 
 Half-joying in our freedom, half-afraid 
 
 Of our wild, lawless life, there came our way 
 
 A mother and her child, and one who seemed 
 
 To both a fostering father. Poor they were, 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 79 
 
 But that we heeded not ; unarmed and weak ; 
 That only drew us on. If small the prize, 
 Small, too, the danger. So we seized the three, 
 And soon had robbed them of their scanty all ; 
 But Dysmas, then some eighteen winters old, 
 Begged hard for mercy. 5 Something touched his 
 
 heart ; 
 
 The mother's grief, that spake to him of home, 
 The blameless child that smiling stretched his hand, 
 As pardoning those who wronged him; and he 
 
 asked 
 
 One favour only, giving up his share 
 That day of all our plunder, that the three, 
 The husband, and the mother, and the child, 
 By his right hand defended from all foes, 
 Might journey to the city where they dwelt. 
 So was it then : and such a change of mood 
 Passed o'er him now. I know not if he traced 
 In that pale, weeping mother, bowed with grief, 
 And faint, as though a sword had pierced her heart, 
 The grace and beauty that had swayed his soul ; 
 Or if, perchance, that pitying look of love, 
 That brow all bleeding with the crown of thorns, 
 Recalled the smiling child, with outstretched hands, 
 Rejoicing, loving, trusting. This I know, 
 That when the taunting words were heard again, 
 A righteous anger flushing all his frame, 
 He spake the stern rebuke : ' And fear'st thou not ? 
 
8o JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 Is this a time for mock and scoff and jest, 
 When thou, too, standest face to face with death ? 
 We in our guilt, deserving all the shame, 
 Reaping the harvest sown through many a year, 
 While he whom thou revilest, righteous, true, 
 Obedient, gentle, hath done nought amiss.' 
 Then, turning with a new-born trust, he looked 
 To that poor sufferer dying on his cross, 
 As if he were indeed great David's Son, 
 Anointed of the Lord : * Remember me, 
 O Lord, when thou shalt come in glorious pomp 
 To claim thy kingdom ; Oh, remember me ! ' 
 He spake as one whose heart was pouring forth 
 The fulness of its craving, all its life 
 Depending on the answer, all its joy 
 Wrapt up in that one word, its deepest woe 
 The thought of being forgotten. Oft of old, 
 Like others of our band, he had his dreams 
 Of that great kingdom of the Christ to come, 
 The armies conquering at their chiefs command, 
 The arrows sharp to drink the foeman's blood, 
 The chariot sweeping o'er the prostrate ranks, 
 The kingly throne on Zion's height restored, 
 Jerusalem once more a pride and joy. 
 Such dreams, it may be, floated o'er his soul 
 In that last prayer. If so. one single word 
 Dispersed them. When the answer came, it spake 
 Of no proud pageant of the pomps of earth, 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 8t 
 
 But gave the promise of a night of peace 
 
 After that noon of torture ; cooling streams 
 
 After that fevered thirst ; for writhing limbs, 
 
 And naked shame, and taunts of mocking crowds, 
 
 The land as Eden fair, where gales of balm 
 
 O'er soft, green meadows murmur evermore. 
 
 1 Fear not ; thou shalt be with me ; ' so the words, 
 
 Like low, soft music, sounded in mine ears, 
 
 1 With me, within the Paradise of God.' 
 
 I heard it, and before my soul there rose 
 
 A vision of the past, when I, a child, 
 
 Guiltless as yet, my hands unstained with blood, 
 
 Heard from a mother's lips of that blest home, 
 
 And God, and His good angels. And I looked 
 
 At Dysmas, and beheld the languid eye 
 
 Kindle with hope, the furrowed brow expand, 
 
 The closed lips move in blessing. More and more, 
 
 Unless my sight played false, those features grew 
 
 Into another's likeness, imaged back 
 
 The calmness of that sufferer on His cross : 
 
 The hardness and the stains of many years 
 
 Dropt off as in a moment, and disclosed 
 
 The nobler nature of the new-born man. 
 
 Twas strange ; I could but marvel as I gazed, 
 
 And stranger thoughts stirred in me. Who was this 
 
 That, lifted on the cross, had power to draw 
 
 The hearts of all men to him ? Who might tell 
 
 The secret of his life ? Was this the end, 
 
 G 
 
82 JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 This shame and torture, this prevailing love, 
 This hour of darkness, this triumphant joy? 
 
 As yet these things are hidden from mine eyes ; 
 They lie behind the veil. But through my soul, 
 With lightning force, there flashes the new thought 
 That not for all the wealth of Rome's great lords, 
 Nor all the state that dazzled Sheba's queen, 
 Would I against that Holy One stir hand 
 Or foot, speak word, or in my thoughts 
 Plan aught of evil. This I know, that I, 
 If by a wish I might undo the past, 
 Would fain live o'er again my term of years, 
 Win back the vanished past, and, as of old 
 I clutched the traveller's gold with eager grasp, 
 Would seize that kingdom, pressing on in haste, 
 That none might get before me, owning him 
 As king, content to follow in his path, 
 Bearing my cross for him, as now for me 
 He has borne his. And when my death-time 
 
 comes, 
 
 May that all-pitying look be with me still, 
 Those tones of mercy lull my soul to rest, 
 That dream of Paradise enwrap me round ! 
 
 What followed then I saw not. Gathering thoughts 
 Made my eyes dim with strange, unwonted tears, 
 And full of very shame lest priests and scribes, 
 Soldiers and people, should detect the change, 
 * The wild Bar-Abbas in a melting mood ! ' 
 
JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 83 
 
 I crept away, as thick the shadows fell, 
 
 And saw and heard no more. But I will find, 
 
 Soon as the Sabbath sun has run his course, 
 
 Some who shall tell me all my heart's desire, 
 
 Disciples of the Master whom I too 
 
 Am fain to follow. I will ask of them 
 
 What drew them to HIM, how they won his love : 
 
 And so, perchance, this day shall be to me 
 
 As to our fathers was that Paschal feast, 
 
 When Israel came from Egypt, leading on 
 
 To life and freedom, making all things new." 
 
 June, 1864. 
 
 G 2 
 
GOMER. 
 
 " And the Lord said to Hosea, Go, take onto tbee a wife of whoredoms. . . 
 So he went and took Gomer the daughter of Diblaim." HOSEA i. 2, 3. 
 
 OH. sorrow of all sorrows ! death of deaths ! 
 The springs of blessing poisoned at their 
 
 source ! 
 
 The shadows falling ere the day is done ! 
 I watch the ghastly ruins of my life, 
 The shattered columns of a vanished joy, 
 And through them wanders every beast unclean, 
 And o'er them sweeps the moaning of the blast ; 
 And in my woe I travel o'er again 
 The strange, drear path that leaves me here alone, 
 Bowed down in shame, dishonoured, reft of all, 
 And haunted by the memory of past joys. 
 Far other was I, when in youth's first dawn 
 I wandered joyous o'er Samaria's hills, 
 Life's golden hopes before me. I was clean 
 From all pollution of the sense or soul ; 
 I never bowed the knee at Moloch's shrine, 
 Nor joined in dance to queenly Ashtaroth, 
 
 - 
 
GOMER. 85 
 
 Nor with the black-robed company of priests 
 Sang praise to Baal in Zidonian fanes : 
 True to my fathers' fame I kept their faith, 
 And cleaving to the prophets of our land, 
 The few bright stars that shone in murkiest night, 
 Became as one of them. We lived in peace 
 Where Jordan's windings glad the palm-girt plain ; 
 Loud-swelling anthems sang the praise of God, 
 Our full-toned voices thundered out the words 
 That Moses heard on Sinai from the Lord ; 
 And oft at eve our grey-haired seers would tell 
 Of those two mightiest prophets, Israel's pride, 
 Chariots and horsemen, strong to save or slay, 
 The Tishbite, and the peasant, Shaphat's son, 
 From fair Meholah. And the months passed on ; 
 We sowed and reaped, we planted and we built, 
 Working and praying, till the toil became 
 Itself a worship. Words of mystic power 
 Came from my lips, when o'er me poured the flood 
 Of surging sound, the rushing, mighty wind 
 Sweeping the chords of life, and stirring thoughts 
 That must find utterance. And I dreamt my 
 
 dream 
 
 Of honoured age, the crown of honoured life ; 
 I saw myself, my white hairs flowing down, 
 The snowy mantle reaching to my feet, 
 And round me gathered all the prophet-band 
 That owned me as their master ; and I stood, 
 
86 GOMER. 
 
 The head and leader of their glorious praise, 
 As Samuel stood of old. 
 
 And now I sit, 
 
 All lonely, homeless, weary of my life, 
 Thick darkness round me, and the stars all dumb, 
 That chanted erst their wondrous tale of joy. 
 And thou hast done it all, O faithless one ! 
 
 Gomer ! whom I loved as never wife 
 Was loved in Israel, all the wrong is thine ! 
 Thy hand hath spoiled all my tender vines, 
 Thy foot hath trampled all my pleasant fruits, 
 Thy sin hath laid my honour in the dust. 
 
 Men throw the blame on me, they mock my grief; 
 They wondered at rny choice, and whispered 
 
 words 
 
 " The prophet woo the harlot ! " told their scorn. 
 They saw in me the poor, weak victim-fool 
 Of beauty's power to bow the strongest will, 
 To taint the purest, drive the wisest mad. 
 Yet call I God to witness, not from pulse 
 Of sensuous passion thrilling through the veins, 
 Or love of outward beauty, sought I thee, 
 And won thee as my bride. Nor charge I thee 
 With feigned semblance of a blameless life, 
 The eyes cast down, and veiled cheeks that flush, 
 When looks admiring tell their power to charm. 
 Not blinded or deceived I made my choice ; 
 
 1 knew thy alien blood, thy wanton heart ^ 
 
COMER. 87 
 
 I saw the morning of thy youth denied ; 
 
 I watched thee, when the summer sun went down, 
 
 And in the purple gleamed the silvery moon 
 
 Walking in brightness, join the priestess-throng 
 
 In mystic dance, thy timbrel in thy hand, 
 
 Thy bright eyes flashing fire, thy streaming hair 
 
 O'er neck and bosom falling, all thy soul 
 
 Bound by the wild enchantment ; and I knew 
 
 What followed on the revel, and for griet 
 
 And shame I wept. " So fallen, yet so young ! 
 
 So fair and bright ! so stained, polluted, vile ! " 
 
 And sorrow passed to pity, pity grew 
 
 To yearning love. To seek and save the lost, 
 
 To call thee mine, and bring thee back to God, 
 
 Became the master-passion of my heart, 
 
 Forgetful of my calling and my fame : 
 
 And never in the hour when rushing streams 
 
 Of light from Heaven have flooded all my soul, 
 
 Or clear, low whispers from the Eternal Word 
 
 Have pointed out my path, have I believed 
 
 More firmly that my will was one with God's, 
 
 His oracle my one unerring guide, 
 
 Than in that hour when all my heart was thine. 
 
 And so I wooed thee, and thou didst not spurn 
 The prophet's offered love. 1 Awhile there woke 
 Within thy soul the thoughts of nobler life, 
 And so thou call'dst me husband. O my God ! 
 
88 GOMER. 
 
 Look Thou with pity on me, as I track 
 That fearful past. Renouncing all the joys, 
 The blessings of the bridegroom and the bride, 
 When each to other brings the virgin heart, 
 The Eden-bliss of lilies white and pure, 
 The stainless passion purifying sense, 
 I, knowing all, enfolded in mine arms 
 A lily torn and trampled in the mire, 
 A poor crushed dove, its snow-white beauty gone. 
 And soon the canker spread. The prophet's 
 
 home, 
 
 The simple life of labour and of prayer, 
 The sabbath-gathering, and the new moon's feasts, 
 These grew distasteful. All her wayward heart 
 Went back to those wild dances of the night, 
 The garland, and the music, and the song ; 
 And soon the wish impelled her to the act ; 
 She trod that path again. She turned from me, 
 Her husband and her lord, and took her place 
 Once more among the slaves of Ashtaroth, 
 And did as others did. Oh ! bitterest grief, 
 Oh ! darkest hour in all a father's life, 
 WTien, listening to the cry of new-born babes, 
 The warring currents ebb and flow within, 
 One impulse true and godlike, all the love 
 Of sire to son full streaming through his soul, 
 And one of doubt and fear. I dared not call 
 Those babes mine own ; and dared I clasp the fruit 
 
GOMER. 89 
 
 Of that abhorred transgression ? So I tuined 
 
 As, year by year, three births in order came, 
 
 Year after year, in sorrow and in wrath ; 
 
 And when the eighth day shone, with mystic names, 
 
 I told the secret sorrow of my soul ; 
 
 Jezreel, my first-born, witness of a guilt 
 
 As foul as was the blood on Jehu's hand, 
 
 Lo-Ammi, Lo-Ruhamah, " not mine own," 
 
 " No yearning of my soul goes forth to thee." 
 
 The children grew; they smiled their infant 
 
 smiles ; 
 
 They lisped with prattling whispers, and they called 
 Me " father ;" and my heart was bowed with woe. 
 At eve I sat, and watched them as they slept, 
 With gentler thoughts. " Plead with your mother, 
 
 plead, 
 
 children ! whom I cherish as mine own ; 
 
 1 change your names, and cancel all the curse 
 Which shut you out from love. Oh, let your voice 
 Break through the spell that holds her in its chains; 
 Your baby-fingers touch her hardened heart, 
 
 Win back her wandering fancy, make her true, 
 And pure, and faithful. So a happier glow 
 May yet surround the sunset of my life ; 
 And age may come to find me circled round 
 With loving wife, dear children, honouring friends. 
 Far better ending than my youth's vain dreams, 
 
90 GOMER. 
 
 Far nobler blessing than the crown of praise 
 Which waits for him who leads the white-robed 
 choir." 
 
 It might not be. To depths of lower shame 
 She sank all heedless. In her frenzied guilt, 
 Leaving the one true guardian of her life, 
 She sought another's home. With him she dwelt, 
 In guilty snatches of delirious joy, 
 Drowning in sin all memory of the past, 
 Bewitched by evil, till the flame burnt out, 
 As burn the thorns that sparkle on the hearth, 
 And left her cold and shivering in the gloom. 
 The adulterer's love, grown weary, turned to hate, 
 And bitter words made way for brutal deed ; 
 And dragging her, once fondled and caressed, 
 As men may drag a slave they take in war, 
 Before the men who gather in the gate, 
 He offered her for money, less for greed 
 Of gold or silver, than in scorn and hate, 
 To grieve her woman's soul with foulest shame, 
 The lowest price demanding that men ask 
 For boy half-grown, or woman past her prime, 
 Half money, half in kind ; and none would buy. 
 But I was there, and, weeping blinding tears, 
 I took her to myself, and paid the price 
 (Strange contrast to the dowry of her youth 
 When first I wooed her) ; and she came again 
 
GOMER. 
 
 To dwell beneath my roof. Yet not for me 
 The tender hopes of those departed years 
 And not for her the Freedom and the love 
 I then bestowed so freely. Sterner rule 
 Is needed now : in silence and alone, 
 In shame and sorrow, wailing, fast, and prayer, 
 She must blot out the stains that made her life 
 One long pollution. I, too, must abide 
 The issue of that penance, suffering long, 
 Her friend, yet not her husband, till the work 
 Be done, and all the wanton soul and sense 
 Be chastened into pureness. And as yet 
 The tears come not, but sullen, angry frown, 
 And fear that turns to hate, rejecting love, 
 And misery that crushes out the hope, 
 Each evil passion rushing through the soul, 
 And making life a hell. Ah me ! my God ! 
 Why was I born to taste this depth of woe ? 
 Why closed not darkness o'er my infant life 
 On that accursed day when joyful lips, 
 Unknowing of the future, raised the cry, 
 " Rejoice, O mother ! Lo ! a child is born"? 
 
 And yet through all the mystery of my years 
 There runs a purpose which forbids that wail 
 Of passionate despair. I have not lived 
 At random, as a soul whom God forsakes ; 
 But evermore His Spirit led me on, 
 
92 GOMER. 
 
 Prompted each purpose, taught my lips to speak, 
 Stirred up within me that deep love, and now 
 Reveals the inner secret. I have learnt, 
 Poor, weak, and frail, to love the fallen soul 
 Of one thus worthless. I have given my peace, 
 My honour, yea, my life for her who turns 
 Unthankful from me. Is there not a cause ? 
 Hath not our God wooed Israel as His bride, 
 The stubborn, wayward Israel, in His love 
 And pity, pardoning all the sins of old ? 
 And here, too, all is baseness. Crimes of sense, 
 And crimes of spirit, tainting heart and life, 
 The altars, and the incense, and the songs 
 With which she bowed to Baalim ; the lust, 
 The rapine, and the hate that rose to heaven : 
 These, these have lit the fire of righteous wrath ; 
 And He, the jealous God, will visit sins 
 Of fathers upon children. I have learnt, 
 In this sharp teaching of an inward woe, 
 The meaning of that jealousy. I know 
 The pity, and the sorrow, and the pain, 
 The love which waters cannot quench, the zeal 
 Which does not shrink from chastening. So it is, 
 And equal stripes must fall on equal sin. 
 She sits alone, that poor self-widowed one, 
 Bowed down to earth. No golden circlet now 
 Crowns her dark locks. No Tyrian purple pours 
 Its rich, soft folds around the marble limbs ; 
 
GOMER. 93 
 
 No pearls or rubies glow on either arm ; 
 
 The topaz and the sapphire cease to blend 
 
 Their radiance on the anklet's dainty band, 
 
 The coronet of feet that scorned for pride 
 
 The earth they trod on. Reft of pomp and state, 
 
 Her brow deep-furrowed with a wrath suppressed, 
 
 And lips that tell of sullen, inward storm, 
 
 She bides her time ; and I must leave her there 
 
 Till those dark clouds have melted into tears, 
 
 And heart of stone gives way to heart of flesh. 
 
 The time is long and weary, and I sigh 
 
 For very grief as mournful days pass on ; 
 
 And yet no sorrow, no repentant prayer, 
 
 No craving for forgiveness speaks of change. 
 
 And thou, O Israel, thou must bear thy doom, 
 
 Grow old and fail, in homes that are not thine, ' 
 
 Where mighty rivers water lands unknown, 
 
 And Asshur's palaces, in pride of strength, 
 
 Rise high upon the banks of Hiddekel. 
 
 No glory of the past shall wait thee there, 
 
 No pomp of kings, no priests in gorgeous robes, 
 
 No victims bleeding on the altar-fires ; 
 
 Nor shall the ephod set with sparkling gems, 
 
 Nor pillar speaking of the gate of heaven, 
 
 Nor Teraphim with strange mysterious gleams, 
 
 Give then their signs oracular. Long years 
 
 Thy sons shall hang their harps on Babel's trees, 
 
 And wander homeless over all the lands, 
 
94 GOMER. 
 
 A by-word to the nations, till at last 
 
 The door of hope is opened, and the light 
 
 Breaks in on that thick darkness. But the end 
 
 Is certain. They will turn and seek their God, 
 
 Seek David's son, the heir of David's throne, 
 
 No longer hardened in their scorn of scorn, 
 
 But mourning, weeping, seeking peace from God, 
 
 Renewing once again the primal love, 
 
 The day of those espousals when the King 
 
 Chose his young bride from out the desert world, 
 
 And claimed her as His own. Oh, boundless joy ! 
 
 Oh, day long looked for ! worth the price we pay. 
 
 The penalty of exile, hunger, shame, 
 
 If only it may come in all its peace, 
 
 In brightness as the morning. 
 
 So I sit, 
 
 Feeding on thoughts that circle round from grief, 
 To highest gladness : so I judge their faults, 
 Mark out their sentence, that adulterous wife, 
 That more adulterous people. Yet there comes, 
 To bring me low, the question, " What am I, 
 That I should sit in judgment ? This my woe, 
 That rends the air with passionate complaint, 
 Bears that no witness of a guilt like theirs, 
 A penalty as needful ?" Through my soul 
 There thrills the trembling shame that whelms the 
 
 heart 
 Of woman faithless. Thou, my soul, wast loved, 
 
GOMER. 95 
 
 As bride by bridegroom, by the Eternal Lord ; 
 And thou, too, hast been false. Thy will has turned 
 To dreams of self. Thy work beguiled thy soul 
 With wanton longings for the prophet's fame, 
 The power to move the terror or the love 
 Of listening thousands. Not the word of peace, 
 The free glad tidings from the Lord of Life 
 To thousand way-worn wanderers in their grief, 
 But battle, strife, contention, with the kings, 
 The priests, the prophets, who opposed thy will, 
 This led thee on. The heart of all thy love 
 To that poor sinner was thy pride of strength, 
 Secret of all thy failure. Thou hast said, 
 " I in my might will be as God, and bring 
 Good out of evil, sway the tides of life, 
 Avenge the wrong, chastise each secret sin ;" 
 And so thou could'st not win thy heart's desire, 
 Wast powerless through thy dream of fancied 
 
 strength, 
 
 Wast baffled by an evil like thine own : 
 Thou too must sit in ashes ; on thy lips 
 Must be the seal of silence. Thou must learn 
 Thy guilt in its full measure ; thou must own 
 Thy need of cleansing. Only when thine arm 
 In sense of weakness reaches forth to God, 
 Wilt thou be strong to suffer and to do ; 
 Only when thou shalt yield thy will to His, 
 Renouncing sell's vain dreams, and take thy place 
 
96 GOMER. 
 
 Among the lowest, shall thy power return 
 To speak His word, to bow men's hearts to Him. 
 Till then sit thou without the prophet's garb, 
 And utter thou no oracle of God ; 
 Low on the earth, in dust and ashes bowed, 
 Learn from the outcast, count thyself as vile, 
 Taste in thine heart the bitterness of death, 
 Plunge thy whole life within the dark abyss, 
 And then thou too shalt, after many days, 
 Turn in thine anguish to the Eternal Lord, 
 And, wearied out with evil, seeking peace, 
 Dwell in His Goodness everlastingly. 
 
 June, I86A. 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 I. 
 JEHONADAB. 
 
 " And when Jehu was departed thence, he lighted on Jehonadab the son of 
 Kechab coming to meet him : and he saluted him, and said to him, Is thine 
 heart right, as my heart is with thy heart ? " a KINGS x. i$. 
 
 THE shadows fall : before mine eyes there 
 floats 
 
 The thick, black darkness. Ere my voice is hushed, 
 I fain would see you gather round my tent, 
 And speak my parting counsels. Ye, my sons, 
 The glory of the spring-tide of my years, 
 Warriors of God, whom I have watched in youth 
 Outrun the wild goat to the topmost crag, 
 Plunge into Jordan when the harvest flood 
 O'erflows its banks, and, battling with the stream, 
 Rise up victorious on the further shore, 
 Whose faces, scarred and seamed in many a fight, 
 Showed noblest hearts, all ignorant of fear ; 
 And ye, who not by bonds of natural birth, 
 But sworn obedience, one in life and heart, 
 
 H 
 
98 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 Have chosen me your father, whom I own 
 As sons of Rechab ; come ye, one and all, 
 Men, women, children, hear the words of one 
 Who speaks as God has taught him. Through the 
 
 years 
 
 Those words shall dwell with you for weal or woe, 
 Blessing or cursing. On your heads the vow 
 Shall rest for ever. Not for you the life 
 Of sloth and ease within the city's gates, 
 Where idol-feasts are held, and incense smokes 
 To Baalim and Ashtaroth ; where man 
 Loses his manhood, and the scoffers sit 
 Perverting judgment, selfish, soft, impure : 
 Not yours the task of those that sow and reap, 
 Or plant the olive and the vine. Ye dwell, 
 Free as, of old, your fathers roamed the lands, 
 When Joshua led their hosts, and, Canaan won, 
 Gave them their lot in Israel. Still ye wend 
 From hill to hill, with camels and with sheep, 
 Asses and oxen, and your tents are seen 
 Outspread upon the pleasant Gilead land, 
 Blackened, yet comely. And the Nazarite's oath 
 Is still upon you. Not for you the cup 
 That sparkles with the crimson blood of grapes : 
 The wine that glads the heart of man and God 
 Ye may not taste. The wild, entrancing thrill 
 That stirs the veins with pulse of warm desire, 
 And swells the voice of song, and bids the feet 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 99 
 
 Move to blithe music in exulting dance, 
 Leave this to lower natures. Ye have seen 
 The poison at its work, have watched the soul 
 Lose calmness, strength, and wisdom, rising high 
 To sink down low, all brutish, in the abyss 
 Where man forgets his God. But ye, the true, 
 The faithful, bound, as servants of the Lord, 
 With heart and strength to serve Him, stand ye 
 
 fast, 
 
 Nor cloud your spirits with the fleshly taint, 
 Nor join in revel at the idol-feasts, 
 Nor turn your backs in craven fear of death. 
 
 Dark were the days when first within my soul 
 The stirrings of a message from the Lord 
 Woke, half-unfelt. The house of Omri trod 
 Its evil path, and Ahab's alien queen, 
 Priestess of Baal, swore to crush our faith. 
 The prophets of Jehovah died their death, 
 Or stoned, or sawn asunder, or in caves 
 By tens and fifties hid themselves for fear ; 
 And Baal's altars smoked on every height, 
 And Baal's black-robed priests in every town 
 Took tithes and offerings ; and by moonlight pale, 
 In shadowy groves, to Ashtaroth their queen, 
 Fair maidens danced adoring. Then the drought 
 Fell on us, and the famine ; and the sky 
 Glared on us like a molten heaven of brass ; 
 
 H 2 
 
100 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 And the earth gaped for weariness and thirst ; 
 And parched lips cursed God for pain of heart. 
 And then the Tishbite came. His long, black 
 
 hair 
 
 Flowed round him like a mantle, and he stood 
 On Carmel's height, and all day long the priests 
 Called on their god, and cut themselves with knives, 
 And poured their blood, and raised their cries in 
 
 vain. 
 
 But when he prayed, as sank the westering sun, 
 The fire descended, and the wondering crowd 
 No longer halted, wavering between two, 
 Baal or Jehovah. Quivering, pale, dismayed, 
 Faint with the sickness of a hope deferred, 
 The priests and prophets of the stranger god 
 Were seized and slaughtered ; and the torrent's bed, 
 Where water long had failed, now filled with blood, 
 Ran crimson to the sea. And then the cloud 
 Rose in the west, a speck of blackness, small 
 As is this hand, yet spreading fast and far, 
 With sound of many waters, and the rush 
 Of darkening tempest ; and the glad showers fell, 
 And earth revived, and all the streamlets sang, 
 With joyful voices, and the mightier floods 
 Swept on and on exulting. 
 
 Yet awhile 
 
 Deliverance came not. Still the foul disease 
 Remained, unhealed ; and Ahab's evil ways 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. JOI 
 
 Cried to the Heavens for vengeance. Faint and 
 
 sad, 
 
 Weary of life, as one who stands alone, 
 The last survivor of a fallen faith, 
 Elijah fled to Horeb. None may know 
 The mystery of that vision on the mount, 
 The fire, the earthquake, and the whirlwind ; last, 
 The still small voice. And soon the vengeance fell 
 On Ahab and his house. We heard afar 
 The deed of wrong, the tyrant's fond desire, 
 The vineyard seized, and Naboth foully slain, 
 The last, great guilt that filled the o'erflowing cup ; 
 And then it came. The chance-drawn bow smote 
 
 down 
 
 The coward king who sought to 'scape disguised, 
 And dogs licked up his blood in Jezreel. 
 Of all the prophet's words none fell to earth 
 Fruitless and vain, and though his course was run, 
 And soon he left us, in the fiery car 
 Mounting to brighter skies of Paradise, 
 Himself an army, stay of all our hopes, 
 The chariot and the horseman of our strength, 
 Our father and our guide, the years fulfilled 
 Each slighted warning. Shame, disgrace, and death 
 Poured down in quick succession, and our hearts 
 Rejoiced to think deliverance near at hand. 
 But most I joy to live those hours again, 
 When Nimshi's son had wrought his deed of doom, 
 
102 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 And Ahab's sons, and queenly Jezebel, 
 
 Lay low in dust. All flushed with pride and zeal, 
 
 He met us in his chariot. I was there 
 
 With you, my sons, and over all the hills 
 
 Our tents were scattered, and our myriad sheep 
 
 Came to their shearing, and our warriors tried 
 
 Made up an army! And the new-made king 
 
 Knew how to use us. Israel's king, I say, 
 
 In all the pride of conquest, sought to clasp 
 
 My hand in friendship, though of alien blood, 
 
 And half of alien creed (for Jehu still 
 
 Bowed down before the golden calves that stood 
 
 In Bethel and in Dan) ; and now, behold, 
 
 We rode together, I, the Kenite chief, 1 
 
 And he, the king. And over all the land 
 
 Went forth the summons, "Come, ye priests, that 
 
 serve 
 
 At Baal's altars. Come ye, all who bow 
 At Baal's shrine. The king will hold a feast, 
 And offer up a mightier sacrifice 
 Than Ahab ever dreamt of." So they came, 
 From East and West, the false apostate crew, 
 From North and South, all striving, eager, hot, 
 To be among the foremost. In they streamed, 
 In garments dyed with purple, such as come 
 From Tyrian looms ; and soon the Temple-gates 
 Closed in upon the thronging, weltering crowd ; 
 And then our moment came. I gave the sign, 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 103 
 
 And ye, your bright swords flashing in the air, 
 
 Went in to do your work. Not hand to hand, 
 
 In equal fight, not struggling hard for life, 
 
 But helpless, powerless, taken in the snare, 
 
 Ye found your victims, and with firm, fixed eye, 
 
 And hands unflinching till the wearied arm 
 
 Refused its office, slew, and slew, and slew 
 
 Your startled, trembling foes. The red sun fell 
 
 On that red stream that gurgled past the walls, 
 
 And over pallid faces threw its gleam 
 
 Of ghastly brightness. Ah, my soul leaps up 
 
 At that remembrance. Not a whit behind 
 
 That sacrifice on Carmel, which I saw, 
 
 Was this my hands had wrought. We crushed the 
 
 snake 
 
 Our master bruised. Remember, O my God, 
 That slaughter of Thy foes. A whisper runs 
 (I know it) that some dreamer in his cell, 
 Who counts himself a prophet, has condemned 
 That deed of vengeance. 2 Let him dream his 
 
 dreams 
 
 Of pitying love, and talk of curses dark 
 That rest upon that day of Jezreel, 
 And claim fulfilment. New and strange to me 
 Such thoughts as these. My soul was early trained 
 To smite and slay the haters of my God, 
 To use or tongue, or hand, or sword, or stone, 
 As each was fittest. Who will blame my deed, 
 
104 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 And spare Elijah's ? And if aught of wrong 
 Have mixed itself with either, Thou, O God, 
 Wilt pardon it as over-eager zeal. 
 The willing slave who does his lord's behest, 
 O'erstepping, here or there, the bounds of right, 
 In very strength of love which hates the foes 
 His Lord condemns, may claim the guerdon high 
 Of faithful sendee. Thou, my King, my God, 
 Wilt own Thy servant, and my name shall live 
 As lives the name of Jehu, through the years, 
 Linked with that day of Jezreel. Ye, my sons, 
 Shall make that name immortal. Still your flocks 
 Shall feed on Gilead's hills, and in your tents 
 Ye and your sons shall dwell, and shall not taste 
 The purpling draught that maddens all the sense, 
 And numbs the soul ; but still your food shall be 
 The curdled goat's milk, and the golden store 
 That drops, all fragrant, from the flinty rock, 
 And water clear and cool shall quench your thirst ; 
 And so your days shall lengthen in the land, 
 As mine have lengthened. Now I go my way 
 I know not whither, but my sleep is sweet, 
 Sweet as the night to him who all day long 
 Has chased the hart upon the mountain height : 
 And I pass on to where my fathers dwell, 
 Each in his rock-hewn couch ; and I shall see 
 The prophets I have known, and they, I think, 
 Will give me welcome, and a change will come 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 105 
 
 O'er sense and spirit making all things clear : 
 And there, it may be, I shall see once more 
 The great Elijah, whom the fiery car 
 Bore from us, and shall greet him, as of old, 
 " My father, O my father, we thy sons, 
 Sons of the chariot of our Israel's strength. 3 
 Still hold thy name in honour, do thy deeds, 
 And live thy life." And then from out the clouds 
 His voice may answer, even as Jehu's did, 
 " Give me thine hand." And I, who rode of yore 
 In Jehu's chariot, mounting higher yet 
 To greater glory, side by side may stand 
 (The angels round me, and the steeds of fire 
 Through golden clouds advancing to the Throne) 
 With him, the mightiest seer, till I, too, see 
 The King in all His beauty, and my voice 
 Joins in the shout of all the sons of God 
 
 September, 1864. 
 
J06 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 II. 
 
 JAAZANIAH. 
 
 " Then I took Jaazaniah the son of Jeremiah, the son of Habaziniah, and 
 his brethren, and all his sons, and the whole house of the Rechabites, and I 
 brought them into the house of the Lord." JEREM. xxxv. 3. 
 
 IT is not that our hearts have waxen faint, 
 Or wills grown false. We blush not to confess 
 Our father's name, and still the vows we keep 
 By which he bound us. But the times were hard ; 
 The great King's armies ravaged all the land, 
 Bitter and hasty, mad with lust and rage, 
 And all our flocks and herds they tore away, 
 Nor spared or infant smiling at the breast, 
 Or hoary-headed age. And so we dwell 
 Within the city's walls, who, long years past, 
 Ne'er slept beneath a roof, but still in tents 
 Lived as our fathers lived. We loathe the change : 
 The bright, keen air that swept the uplands wild, 
 Sweet with the fragrance of the fields of God, 
 We breathe no more ; but, stifling, dense, and 
 
 thick, 
 Charged with the taint of pestilence and death, 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 107 
 
 Foul as the draught-house which, of olden time, 
 Reared its proud height exulting, as a shrine 
 Where Baal sat enthroned, which he, our sire, 
 The son of Rechab, stript of all its pride, 
 The city's vapours choke us. And our garb, 
 Our speech, our customs, all are put to shame ; 
 The revellers and the drunkards make their songs 
 Because we feast not with them, and they tempt 
 Our purer youth to stain their souls with sin ; 
 And, in the twilight, where the cross-ways meet, 
 The harlot-stranger greets them with her wiles, 
 And lures them to the chambers of the dead ; 
 And so the cry goes up, as once it went 
 From Admah and Zeboim, and the cup 
 Fills evermore, till soon the wrath of God 
 Shall overflow in fury. Base and foul 
 This life of cities : now we see and know 
 The wisdom of the oath that bade us shun 
 And hate it evermore. 
 
 And yet we found 
 
 E'en there a remnant, faithful friends and true, 
 Servants of God, and all our hearts leapt up, 
 When through the Temple's gates, and stately courts, 
 We passed adoring. Not till then our eyes 
 Had looked on that full splendour, nor our ears 
 Heard the clear trumpets which the priests of God 
 Blow loud and long, or that great shout of praise, 
 When Hallelujah from the white-robed choir 
 
I08 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 Rises on high, and thousand voices chant, 
 Re-echoing Hallelujah, wave on wave, 
 The sound of many waters. All our days 
 Till now, when Sabbaths bade us rest from toil, 
 Or new-moon feast filled every soul with joy, 
 We gathered here or there, in tent or grove, 
 Where'er a prophet met us ; and we prayed, 
 And he declared his message, and we heard, 
 And so we went our way. But now we tread 
 The courts of God, which He of old chose out 
 To set His Name there ; and the cedarn roof, 
 Fretted and bossed with gold of Ophir, carved 
 With all the workman's cunning, wins our gaze. 
 Here, where great David's greater son stood up, 
 And prayed his prayer ; where, bright and lustrous, 
 
 shone 
 
 The glory of the Presence, sapphire gleams 
 And amber brightness, blent with orient rays 
 Of amethyst and emerald ; here to kneel, 
 And watch the thousand pilgrims as they pass, 
 And see the sheep and oxen, flocks and herds, 
 Driven to the altars, this is joy, indeed ; 
 And fain our steps would tread the hallowed way, 
 And fain our voice would swell the surging praise, 
 And rather would we stay to keep the doors, 
 And sweep the pavement of the House of God, 
 Than dwell where all the proud ones in their tents 
 Exult in conquest. 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 109 
 
 Not in vain that wish : 
 
 They welcomed us, the prophets and the priests, 
 As friends and brothers, and with open hearts 
 Gave all we needed. Chief among them all, 
 Stood forth the pale, sad seer of Anathoth, 
 The man of many woes, whose gleaming eyes 
 Told of a fire still burning, and whose lips 
 Now slow and feeble, now of mightiest speech, 
 Made known the thoughts of God. He owned 
 
 in us 
 
 A kindred life, for he, too, dwelt apart, 
 An exile from his own, and would not tread 
 The house of feasting ; and at him they scoffed 
 Who scoffed at us, and evermore they cried, 
 " Lo ! the mad prophet : hear him rave again." 
 
 One morn he came to us. The prophet's hour 
 Was on him ; not with common speech, or mien 
 Of wonted calmness, but in heat of soul, 
 With clear, fixed eye, and voice that whispered low, 
 As one on whom the hand of God weighs hard, 
 He spake his will, and bade me follow him 
 With all my father's house. Through gate and 
 
 court 
 
 He led the way to where the eastern tower 
 Looks down on Kidron. There the chamber stands 
 Where Hanan's followers gather up the words 
 Their Master speaks, and there he bade us stay ; 
 
110 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 And then from out the treasure of the House 
 He brought the golden goblets chased of old 
 By Hiram's workmen (such as 'scaped the spoil 
 When Shishak plundered), crusted thick with ge.iis, 
 Embossed and graven. Wine he brought, the best 
 That Eshcol's vineyards boast of, sweet and bright, 
 And, pouring, bade us drink. Yes, he, the seer, 
 The prophet of the Lord, stood forth to tempt, 
 As Satan tempts. To break the vows of God, 
 To do dishonour to our father's name, 
 To taste the cup those dying lips had cursed ; 
 To this he called us. Wondering eyes we turned, 
 All startled at the suddenness of change, 
 But yield we might not. No, nor prophet's voice. 
 Nor angel's message floating through the air, 
 Nor lengthened skill and subtlety of speech 
 Might bend us from our purpose. So we told 
 Our simple tale. " The oath of God was strong, 
 Stronger than all things else. OUT souls were 
 
 bound 
 
 To keep our father's hest. Stern need alone 
 Had driven us from our tents, but all the rest 
 We still obeyed." " Oh, ask us not to taste, 
 Thou prophet of the Lord, lest we too fall 
 Beneath the curse." 
 
 And then the mystery cleared ; 
 Not luring us to sin, but trusting well 
 Our strong obedience, he would find in us 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. Ill 
 
 A pattern unto Israel. We had kept 
 
 Our father's word, but Judah had been false, 
 
 And Israel frail. In vain the Lord had sent 
 
 His prophets, rising early ; and in vain 
 
 Had pleaded with His children. Therefore came 
 
 On us the blessing, and on them the doom : 
 
 For them a city captured, homes destroyed, 
 
 A life of exile ; and for -us the praise 
 
 Which God, not man, awards to faithful souls, 
 
 A name to live through all the age to come ; 
 
 Yea, more than all, beyond our hope or dream, 
 
 The words went forth that met our heart's desire ; 
 
 " The son of Rechab shall not want a man 
 
 To stand before my face for evermore." * 
 
 As stand the sons of Aaron when, in robes 
 
 Of linen white and clean, they tread the courts, 
 
 Or wave the incense, as the Levites stand, 
 
 Choir facing choir, and chant their hymns at night, 
 
 Through the still darkness breathing praise to God, 
 
 To cheer the watchman on his lonely round, 
 
 The soldier on his turret ; so shall we 
 
 Dwell, night and day, within the holy house 
 
 Which God has called his own : our lips shall 
 
 bring 
 
 Their daily offering, and our hands shall sweep 
 The strings of harp or psaltery. Pure and cleansed, 
 The chosen band of Nazarites shall own 
 Our tried endurance. In the months to come, 
 
112 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 Or few, or many, we shall find our home, 
 As finds the swallow, in the courts of God. 
 
 And if the days are dark, and doom of woe 
 Hangs o'er us ; if the dread Chaldaean scourge 
 Shall sweep the land and leave it desolate ; 
 If cedar beams and carved roof shall burn, 
 And columns lie, all shattered, in the dust ; 
 And golden vessels serve for idol-feasts, 
 And all the music of the choirs be hushed, 
 And groans and curses rend the startled air ; 
 If, exiles wandering on Euphrates' banks, 
 We hang our harps upon the pale, grey trees, 
 Whose weeping branches plash the wide, waste 
 
 flood, 
 
 And, when they bid us, in their mirth and pride, 
 Sing at their feasts the chief of Zion's songs, 5 
 Make answer, " How in this strange land and drear 
 Can hallowed songs, the hymns of God, be ours ? " 
 And then in speech they know not, breathe our 
 
 soul, 
 
 Cursing, not blessing : if all this shall come 
 On us and on our children, still our hearts 
 Shall live in hope. The word is sure and fixed 
 As are the everlasting hills of God, 
 And still the sons of Rechab shall not fail 
 To stand before the Lord ; and still their feet 
 Shall tread His courts, their voices speak His praise. 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 113 
 
 And thou, O Prophet, Seer of Anathoth, 
 
 Shalt see, in vision, all thy word fulfilled ; 
 
 And the old order, waxing dim, shall pass 
 
 Away before the new, and words of God 
 
 Written on fleshly tablets of the heart, 
 
 Shall win from all obedience, trust, and love. 
 
 So all thy woes shall end, thy restless grief 
 
 ohall rest at last, and near the throne of God 
 
 Thou still shalt stand, and for thy people pray, 
 
 Thy grey hairs crowned with glory; 6 while, on 
 
 earth, 
 
 The sons of Rechab treasure up thy words, 
 And live, expectant of the mightier time, 
 When He, the Lord our Righteousness, shall come, 
 And call His people from the East and West 
 To dwell for ever in the Eternal Light, 
 At rest within the Paradise of God. 
 
 September, 1864. 
 
114 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 III. 
 
 JAMES THE JUST. 
 
 " But whilst they were thus stoning him, one of the priests of the sons of 
 Rechab the sons of Rechabim, who are mentioned by the prophet Jeremiah, 
 cried, ' Stop, what do ye, the Just One prays for you.' " HEGESIPPUS, in Euseb. 
 Hist. Ecc. ii. 23. 
 
 YOU ask me, friend, the story of my life, 
 How came it that for years I held my peace, 
 Half-doubting, half-believing, went my way, 
 And did my work, as if the Nazarene 
 Had never taught, or died, or risen again ; 
 Whilst thou, e'er yet the stir and rush were o'er 
 Of that great Pentecost, as fully His, 
 Did'st join the Galileans. So thy path 
 Was taken, and it parted us. For thee, 
 No longer, service in the Temple's courts, 
 Slaying oxen, burning incense, but the work 
 To spread thy Lord's good tidings o'er the world 
 To Jew or Gentile, visiting the sick, 
 Clothing the naked, gauging earth's abyss 
 Of hopeless sorrow, where in dungeons foul 
 Men curse their God, or fret their loathsome lives 
 In galleys or in mines, and still in each 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 11$ 
 
 Uplifting high the Cross on which thy self 
 Was crucified with Christ. And now we meet, 
 The long years ended like a tale that's told, 
 And never more shall clouds of incense float 
 To gilded rafters, never more shall eye 
 Of wondering traveller glance from height to height, 
 And count those towers of Zion. Low in dust 
 They lie, those goodly columns, and the fire 
 Has charred the sculptured cedar, and the song 
 Is turned to wailing. Yes, we meet again ; 
 And I, the doubter, faltering, half-convinced, 
 Am one with thee in heart, and faith, and life, 
 Call Christ my Lord, and seek to make Him mine. 
 " How was it ? " I will tell thee. Long ago 
 (Thou mind'st the time), when yet the gathering down 
 Grew on my youthful cheek, and first I took 
 My place among the Levites in their choir, 
 There came a rumour that the hour had come, 
 Long hoped-for, long deferred, when God should 
 
 , raise 
 
 A prophet unto Israel. Stiff and cold, 
 And poor and dead the teaching of our scribes, 
 Hillel and Shammai, vexing all our souls 
 With grievous burdens, telling o'er again 
 Their thrice-told tales. And all our hearts leapt up 
 At this good news. The Spirit had not failed, 
 The Lord's arm was not shortened. Once again 
 The Word had come, and he, the Baptist, stood 
 
 I 2 
 
Il6 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 As stood of old, Elijah. We were sent, 
 Levites and priests, to test the preacher's claim, 
 And search his teaching. Others came away, 
 Hating or scorning, " He is mad," they said, 
 " A demon holds him. Here is one of us, 
 A priest as we are, and he lives a life 
 That shames us, turns away from all his friends, 
 From feasts, and song, and garments soft and rich, 
 The honours of the priesthood and the scribes, 
 And makes his dwelling in the wilderness, 
 And lives on locusts like the wandering sons 
 Of Ishmael, and will rob the wild bee's store, 
 And drink the stream that gushes from the rock." 
 
 So they in scorn and wonder, but my soul 
 Went forth to him, admiring. Here I found 
 A life which bore on every lineament 
 The stamp of that old greatness which our sire, 
 The son of Rechab, bade us strive to keep, 
 Age after age. Elijah walked again 
 This earth of ours : and half I could have deemed 
 The Christ had come in him, but prophets old 
 Forbade the thought, and told of David's seed 
 And David's city, and himself confessed, 
 " I am not he, the Anointed, whom ye seek," 
 . And told us of another yet to come 
 Whom then we knew not 
 
 Soon we knew too well : 
 The people's rumours took another turn, 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. Iiy 
 
 Another prophet rose, and mighty deeds, 
 
 Wrought by His hands, proclaimed Him more than 
 
 John; 
 
 And mighty words were spoken, and there ran, 
 From peasants by the fair Tiberias' lake, 
 Yea, among priests and scribes who feared to speak, 
 The whisper, " This is Christ." My soul was stirred 
 To question further : and I saw the man, 
 Found much to love, admire, do homage to, 
 And but for one thing perfect. But the flaw 
 Seemed fatal. He, the Galilean prophet, came 
 Eating and drinking, as the sons of men 
 Eat flesh, drink wine. He mingled with the feasts, 
 Where men make merry : yea, He gave the wine, 
 Put forth His power to give it, copious store 
 To last a twelvemonth. Could I trust in one 
 Who stooped to this ? Or could I faithless prove 
 To all my fathers, cast aside their life 
 As vain self-torture, profitless, and poor, 
 The bondage of a time of ignorance, 
 Now gone for ever ? So I held my peace, 
 Half-pitying, half-admiring, waiting on 
 To see the issue. Then they worked their will, 
 Annas and Caiaphas, and the slave-like crew 
 That look to Caesar ; and the prophet hung, 
 All stript and bleeding, on the accursed cross 
 And then, we heard, He rose. The rumour ran 
 Through Tyropceon up the Temple steps, 
 
Il8 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 Passed on from priest to priest, " The man ye slew 
 Is risen from the dead." It might be so ; 
 They spoke it bravely, those, the faltering friends 
 Who once forsook Him. Now they did not doub/ 
 Were not faint-hearted, stood before the Scribes, 
 The Priests, the Elders, constant in their tale ; 
 And thou, friend, did'st believe them ; but for me 
 The old doubt was not cleared. They also drank 
 The wine we may not taste. From hand to hand 
 They passed the cup, memorial of their Lord, 
 Bond of their union. None might join their sect 
 Except he drank it. But I might not drink, 
 And therefore could not join : and still I said, 
 As once Gamaliel spoke in full debate, 
 " God will make clear His purpose ; I, at least, 
 Can wait in silence." 
 
 So the years passed on : 
 
 Ere long I marked each day within our courts, 
 A Nazarite form, in linen pure and white, 
 As each set service summoned men to prayer, 
 Still at the third hour, and the sixth, and ninth, 
 As one to whom the Temple was a home ; 
 Pale, calm, and worn with fasting, there he stood, 
 And never costly oil bedewed his brow, 
 And never wine-cup touched the saintly lips, 
 Save, it might be, one drop, the merest sign 
 The token of his brotherhood in Christ. 
 Silent he was, and gentle, never word 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 119 
 
 Of anger 'scaped him. Here was one, indeed, 
 
 Our father Jonadab would own as his, 
 
 One whom I might admire, and seek to make 
 
 His heart as my heart. And this man, they said, 
 
 Was Jacob, brother of the Crucified, 
 
 Once doubting as we doubted, now convinced 
 
 By what he saw, and owning now no more 
 
 The fleshly kindred, seeing on the Throne 
 
 His brother, all men's brother. And the priests 
 
 Gave him free entry, would not turn him back, 
 
 Threw open all the gates. They knew the man 
 
 And bowed before his spotlessness of life, 
 
 And thought the risk less great to let him pass, 
 
 Seeing how gentle, worn, subdued he stood, 
 
 Than cause an uproar. But at last their wrath 
 
 Was kindled : blinded in their rage, they seized 
 
 Their victim, and, mistaking all his life, 
 
 Unknowing all the steadfastness of soul 
 
 That slumbered, waiting for its hour to come, 
 
 They urged confession. "Speak, thou Just One, 
 
 speak ; 
 
 Thou knew'st the Nazarene, whose followers speak 
 Blaspheming words against our Holy Place, 
 As against Moses. Thou hast never joined 
 In aught our law forbids. Thy lips are free 
 From all pollution. Zealous for the law, 
 We honour thee as one more zealous still, 
 True to the death. Well then, be bold at last, 
 
120 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 To disavow the leader, as in act 
 
 Thou joinest not the followers. Speak one word, 
 
 The word which parts thee from the Name we hate, 
 
 And then thou shalt be ours for evermore ; 
 
 And much we will concede thee, highest place, 
 
 And priestly honours, yea, and priestly robes." 
 
 And so they led him where the Temple's tower 
 Looks down o'er Kidron, and from either court 
 They gazed, expectant : and, at last, he spake : 
 " Ye slayers of the Just One, I have prayed, 
 As prayed my Master, that this hour might pass, 
 And leave you guiltless, prayed that ye might turn, 
 Believe, and live ; but, lo ! ye will not hear. 
 Your blood be on your head ; my soul is free : 
 I bear my witness. Know ye, all who hear, 
 How from my heart I worship Him ye slew, 
 No longer as my brother, but my Lord, 
 Yea, as my King, my God. The stainless life 
 I knew long since, the mighty deeds of love ; 
 Yet still I wavered. But, at last, there came 
 The victory over doubt. These eyes have seen 
 Risen from the dead the brother whom I knew ; 
 And now I know Him, mighty to redeem, 
 As wise to teach. I hear His footstep's fall 
 Through all the world's wild clamour. At the door 
 He stands and knocks, and pleads, and calls in vain, 
 And soon will come as Judge. The cry goes up 
 To Heaven, and all the martyr-souls, that wait 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 121 
 
 Beneath the altar, shout, nor shout in vain, 
 
 'How long, O Lord, how long!' And then the 
 
 End: 
 
 This Temple where I worship day and night, 
 Shall stream with blood of men, and desolate 
 With that abomination dark and dread, 
 Accursed of God, and trampled on by men, 
 Shall sink in flames. And then the hour shall come, 
 When shadows, types, and symbols falling off, 
 That sheathed the truth and hid it, all shall know 
 The mystery of the Kingdom. Greek and Jew, 
 The seed of Japhet, and the sons of Shem, 
 And Ham's swarth brood shall offer up their prayer, 
 And all alike be heard. The middle wall 
 Is broken down, and God's great love expands 
 Beyond the utmost sea." 
 
 Thus far he spake ; 
 The rest wild yells cut off. They gnashed their 
 
 teeth, 
 
 They tore their garments, cursed, and spat on him ; 
 And then a moment's pause, and then a rush, 
 And we who stood below beheld his form 
 Fall headlong. On the Temple stones he lay, 
 All bruised and bleeding ; but life still was there, 
 And slow, faint words came forth from quivering lips, 
 " Father, forgive them." Then a giant form 
 Strode through the crowd, and with a fuller's club 
 (The man was one of those who do their work 
 
122 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 Down by En-rogel) gave the final stroke, 
 And all was over. Then my soul was moved ; 
 The fire was kindled. I had waited long 
 For truth to silence doubt, and now it came, 
 The token that I craved for. This man's life 
 Was one long worship. He who died this death, 
 Bearing this witness, had not lived a lie ; 
 The hope that gave him strength, the love that 
 
 taught 
 
 With good to conquer evil, were no dreams, 
 No vision of the night, no idle tale ; 
 And therefore I believed : And so I spake, 
 " O fools, and blind. The blood ye shed will cry 
 From out the earth for vengeance. Once again 
 Ye slay the Just One. Lo, the cup is full, 
 The wine is mixed, the wine of God's great wrath, 
 And ye shall drink it even to the dregs : 
 I flee for refuge from that wrath to come 
 To Him, the One deliverer. All the past 
 I count but loss, if I may gain but that : 
 The place of honour in the Levites' chair, 
 The blessing that the sons of Rechab boast, 
 The long descent through lineage undefiled, 
 The vow that binds us to our father's name, 
 All these I cast aside to win but Thee, 
 Thou Christ of God." 
 
 They heard ; the cries, 
 Redoubled, rose. They led me to the gates ; 
 
THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 123 
 
 They laid upon my head the dark, dire curse, 
 
 And sent me forth Anathema. Alone, 
 
 Homeless, dishonoured, reft of name and fame, 
 
 I hid myself by day, and wandered forth 
 
 When evening fell, not knowing where I went ; 
 
 But through the shadow and the darkness shone 
 
 The presence of the Christ ; and all night long 
 
 The heavens were opened. And the angels came, 
 
 Descending, rising, passing to and fro ; 
 
 The lonely slope of Olivet became 
 
 A house of God, the very gate of Heaven ; 
 
 And in the morn they welcomed me, the friends 
 
 Whom now I saw as angels, one in heart 
 
 And soul, and, all regardless of the curse 
 
 The priests had spoken, gave me rest and food. 
 
 They washed me in the stream that cleanses sin, 
 
 They broke the bread, and poured the wine 01 
 
 Christ ; 
 
 And so I call thee brother ; so old ties 
 Are knit again more closely, and our lives, 
 Long time divided, meet for evermore, 
 And we are priests within the Eternal Home, 
 The Temple of the City of our God. 
 
 September, 1864. 
 
THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE princely David, with his outlaw-band, 
 Lodged in the cave Adullam. Wild and fierce, 
 With lion-like faces, and with eagle eyes, 
 They followed where he led. The danger pressed, 
 For over all the land the Philistines 
 Had spread their armies. Through Rephaim's vale 
 Their dark tents mustered thick, and David's home, 
 His father's city, Bethlehem, owned them lords. 
 'Twas harvest, and the crops of ripening corn 
 They ravaged, and with rude feet trampled down 
 The tender vines. Men hid themselves for fear 
 In woods or caves. The brave undaunted few, 
 Gathering round David, sought the mountain hold. 
 The sun was hot, and all day long they watched 
 With spear in hand and never-resting eye, 
 As those who wait for battle ; but at eve 
 The eye grew dim, the lips were parched with 
 
 thirst. 
 And from that arid rock no trickling stream 
 
THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 125 
 
 Of living water gushed. From time-worn skins 
 
 The tainted drops were poured, and fevered lips 
 
 Half-loathing drank them up. And David's soul 
 
 Was weary ; the hot simoom scorched his veins ; 
 
 The strong sun smote on him, and, faint and sick, 
 
 He sat beneath the shadow of the rock : 
 
 And then before his eyes a vision came, 
 
 Cool evening, meadows green, and pleasant sounds 
 
 Of murmuring fountains. Oft in days of youth, 
 
 When leading home his flocks as sunset fell, 
 
 That fount had quenched his thirst, and dark-eyed 
 
 girls, 
 
 The pride and joy of Bethlehem, meeting there, 
 Greeted the shepherd boy, their chieftain's son, 
 (As, bright and fair with waving locks of gold, 
 Exulting in the flush of youth's full glow, 
 He mingled with their throng), and gazing, rapt 
 With wonder at his beauty, gave him drink. 
 And now the words came feebly from his lips, 
 A murmur half in silence, which the ear 
 Of faithful followers caught : " Ah ! who will bring 
 From that fair stream, which flowing by the gate 
 Of Bethlehem's wall makes music in the ear, 
 One drop to cool this tongue ? " They heard, the 
 
 three, 
 
 The mightiest of the thirty, swift of foot 
 As are the harts upon the mountains, strong 
 As are the lions down by Jordan's banks ; 
 
126 THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 
 
 They heard and darted forth ; down rock and crag 
 They leapt, as leaps the torrent on its course ; 
 Through plain and vale they sped, and never stayed, 
 Until the wide encampment of the foe 
 Warned them of danger nigh. But not for fear 
 Abandoned they their task. When evening fell, 
 And all the Philistines were hushed in sleep, 
 And over all the plain the full, bright moon 
 Poured its rich lustre, onward still they stole, 
 By tent fires creeping with hushed breath, and feet 
 That feared to wake the echoes, till at last 
 They heard the babbling music, and the gleam 
 Of rippling moonlight caught their eager eye, 
 And o'er them fell the shade of Bethlehem's gate. 
 They tarried not. One full delicious draught 
 Slaked their fierce thirst, and then with anxious 
 
 haste 
 
 They filled their water-urn, and full of joy, 
 They bore it back in triumph to their lord. 
 With quickened steps they tracked their path again 
 O'er plain and valley, up o'er rock and crag, 
 And as the early sunlight kissed the hills 
 They stood before him. He had won their hearts 
 By brave deeds, gentle words, and stainless life ; 
 And now they came to give him proof of love, 
 And pouring out the water bade him drink. 
 But lo ! he would not taste. He heard their tale 
 (In few words told, as brave men tell their deeds), 
 
THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 127 
 
 And lifting up his hands with solemn prayer, 
 As though he stood, a priest, before the shrine, 
 He poured it on the earth before the Lord. 
 " Far be it from me, God, that I should drink, 
 The slave of selfish lust, forgetting Thee, 
 Forgetting these my brothers. In Thine eyes 
 This water fresh and cool is as the blood 
 Of hero-souls who jeopardied their lives : 
 That blood I may not taste. As shrink the lips 
 From the hot life-stream of the Paschal Lamb, 
 So shrinks my soul from this. To Thee, O Lord, 
 To Thee I pour it. Thou wilt pardon me 
 For mine unkingly weakness, pardon them 
 For all rough deeds of war. Their noble love 
 Shall cover all their sins ; for Thou hast claimed, 
 More than all blood of bulls and goats, the will 
 That, self-forgetting, lives in deeds like this." 
 
 So spake the hero-king, and all the. host 
 Looked on and wondered ; and those noble three, 
 The mightiest of the thirty, felt their souls 
 Knit closer to King David and to God. 
 
 II. 
 
 THROUGH wastes of sand the train of camels wound 
 Their lingering way. The pilgrims, hasting on 
 To Mecca's shrine, were grieved and vexed at heart, 
 
128 THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 
 
 Impatient of delay. The scorching sand 
 Lay hot and blinding round them, and the blast 
 Of sultry winds, as from a furnace mouth, 
 Brought blackness to all faces. Whirling clouds 
 Of white dust filled their eyes, and, falling flat, 
 Crouching in fear, they waited till it passed. 
 Then, lifting up their eyes, there met their gaze 
 One fierce, hot glare, a waveless sea of sand. 
 No track of pilgrims' feet, nor whitening bones 
 Of camels or of asses, marked their way. 
 They wandered on, by sun and moon and stars 
 Guessing their path, not knowing where they went, 
 But Mecca's shrine they saw not. Day by day, 
 Their scant stores scantier grew. Their camels 
 
 died; 
 
 No green oasis met their yearning eyes ; 
 No rippling stream brought gladness to their hearts ; 
 But glittering lakes that sparkled in the light, 
 Girt with the soft, green tufts of feathery palm, 
 Enticed them, hour by hour, to wander on, 
 And, as they neared them, turned to wastes of sand. 
 They thirsted, and with looks of blank despair 
 Beheld the emptied skins. One only, borne 
 By Ka'ab's camel, met their wistful gaze, 
 Ka'ab, the rich, the noble, he who knew 
 The depths of ,* unto Allah's will 
 
 Resigning all his soul. And now he showed 
 How out of that submission flows the strength 
 
THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 129 
 
 For noblest acts of love. That priceless store 
 He claimed not as his own : the * mine ' and 
 ' 'thine' 
 
 Of selfish right he scattered to the winds, 
 And to his fellow-pilgrims offered all. 
 They shared it all alike. To Ka'ab's self 
 And Ka'ab's slave an equal portion came : 
 "Allah is great," he cried, about to drink 
 With thankful adoration, when a wail 
 Of eager craving burst from parched lips, 
 And upturned eyes with fevered anguish watched 
 The precious life-draught. Ka'ab heard that cry, 
 His eye beheld that anguish, and his heart 
 Was stirred with pity. Tasting not a drop, 
 With calm and loving look he passed the cup 
 To those poor dying lips, and bore his thirst, 
 As martyrs bear their flames. His soul had learnt, 
 Not' Islam's creed alone that God is great : 
 A mightier name was written on his heart, 
 " God, the compassionate, the merciful ; " 
 And yielding up his will to God's, the three, 
 Compassion, mercy, greatness, were as one. 
 
 So ends the tale. And whether death came soon 
 As sleep's twin-brother, with the longed-for rest, 
 And clear, bright streams in Paradise refreshed 
 The fevered thirsts of earth ; or if the dawn 
 Revealed the distant gleam of Mecca's shrine, 
 And led those pilgrims on to Zemzem's fount. 
 
 K 
 
130 THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 
 
 We know not. This we know, that evermore, 
 Like living water from the flinty rock, 
 Gladdening the hearts of Hagar's sons, as once 
 God's angel helped the mother and her child, 
 The memory of that noble deed flows on, 
 And quickens into life each fainting heart, 
 And through long ages, in each Arab's tent 
 It passed into a proverb " Ka'ab's deed 
 Of noble goodness : There is none like that."* 
 
 III. 
 
 THE setting sun fell low on Zutphen's plain ; 
 The fight was over, and the victory won, 
 And out of all the din and stir of war 
 They bore the flower of Christian chivalry, 
 The life-blood gushing out. He came, the pure, 
 The true, the stainless, all youth's fiery glow, 
 All manhood's wisdom, blended into one, 
 To help the weak against the strong, to drive 
 The Spaniard from a land which was not his, 
 And claim the right of all men to be free, 
 Free in their life, their polity, their faith. 
 He came, no poor ambition urging on, 
 But loyalty and duty, first to God, 
 And then to her, the Virgin Queen, who ruled 
 His guileless heart, and of a thousand good 
 
THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 13! 
 
 Found him the best. We wonder that he bowed 
 
 Before so poor an idol, knowing not 
 
 That noble souls transfer their nobleness 
 
 To that whereon they gaze, and through the veils 
 
 Of custom or of weakness reach the heart 
 
 That beats, as theirs, with lofty thoughts and true. 
 
 And now that life was ebbing. Men had hoped 
 
 To see in him the saviour of the state 
 
 From thickening perils, one in open war 
 
 To cope with Alva, and in subtle skill, 
 
 Bating no jot of openness and truth, 
 
 To baffle all the tortuous wiles of Spain : 
 
 And some who knew him better hoped to see 
 
 His poet's spirit do a poet's work, 
 
 With sweetest music giving voice and shape 
 
 To all the wondrous thoughts that stirred the age, 
 
 Moving the world's great heart, attracting all, 
 
 The children at their play, the old man bent 
 
 By blazing hearths, to listen and rejoice. 
 
 And now his sun was setting. Faint and weak 
 They bore him to his tent, and loss of blood 
 Brought on the burning thirst of wounded men, 
 And he too craved for water. Brothers true, 
 Companions of his purpose and his risk, 
 Brought from the river in their helmet cup 
 The draught he longed for. Yet he drank it not ; 
 That eye had fallen on another's woe, 
 That ear was open to another's sigh, 
 
 K 2 
 
^ THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 
 
 That hand was free to give, and pitying love, 
 In that sharp pain of death, had conquered self. 
 The words were few and simple : " Not for me ; 
 I may not taste : He needs it more than I : " 
 Few as all noblest words are, pearls and gems 
 Of rarest lustre ; but they found their way, 
 More than all gifts of speech or poet's skill, 
 To stir the depths of England's heart of hearts, 
 And gave to Sidney's name a brighter life, 
 A nobler fame through all the immortal years, 
 Than Raleigh's friendship, or his own brave deeds, 
 Or counsels wise, or Spenser's silver notes, 
 A trumpet-call to bid the heart awake, 
 A beacon-light to all the rising youth, 
 Fit crown of glory to that stainless life, 
 The perfect pattern of a Christian knight, 
 The noblest hero of our noblest age. 
 
 IV. 
 
 AND one day they shall meet before their God, 
 
 The Hebrew, and the Moslem, and the flower 
 
 Of England's knighthood. On the great white 
 
 throne 
 
 The Judge shall sit, and from his lips shall flow 
 Divinest words : " Come, friends and brothers, 
 
 come; 
 
THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 133 
 
 I speak as one whose soul has known your pangs ; 
 Your weariness and woe were also mine ; 
 The cry, ' I thirst,' has issued from these lips ; 
 And I too would not drink, but bore the pain, 
 Yielding my will to do my Father's work, 
 And so that work was finished ; so I learnt 
 The fullest measure of obedience, learnt 
 The wide, deep love embracing all mankind, 
 Passing through all the phases of their woe 
 That I before their God might plead for all. 
 And thus through all the pulses of their life 
 I suffer when they suffer , count each deed 
 Of mercy done to them as done to Me, 
 Am one with them in sorrow and in joy. 
 Rejoicing in their likeness to My life, 
 And bearing still the burden of their sins 
 For which I once was offered. I was there, 
 The Light of each man's, soul, in that wild cave, 
 On that parched desert, on that tented field ; 
 That self-forgetting love I owned as Mine, 
 And ye who, true to that diviner Light 
 Which triumphed over nature, freely gave 
 That water to the thirsty, gave to Me. 
 Brother, and friend, and Lord of all men, I 
 Count nothing human alien from myself, 
 And lifted up upon the Cross, I draw 
 By that supremest love the hearts of all. 
 Come therefore, come, ye blessed, to the Light 
 
T34 THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 
 
 That, shining through the world's great darkness, led 
 Your feet the upward path. That Light ye saw, 
 Or dimly dawning on the mountain height, 
 Or bursting forth in glory as the morn, 
 Or brightening onward to the perfect day, 
 And, seeing it, were glad. Ye heard the Voice 
 Which bade you mount the steep and narrow way, 
 And did not close your ears. Ye knew not then 
 Whence came the Light, and whose the Voice that 
 
 spake : 
 
 Now when all mists are fled, and ever hushed 
 The world's loud murmur, ye shall see and hear, 
 As children looking on their Father's face, 
 And welcomed by their Brother's words of peace. 
 Yours was the work of yielding all for Him, 
 Through clouds and darkness pressing on in faith ; 
 Yours the reward of looking back on life, 
 The fight well fought, the race well run, to see 
 That all things true and good were wrought in God." 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
'VIE DE JESUS/ 
 
 (PAR ERNEST RENAN.) 
 
 H 
 
 AS then the Christ departed ? Is there 
 
 none 
 
 To whom the lonely and the lost may turn ? 
 Does one cold mist of doubt, distrust, despair, 
 Enwrap the carcase of a sunless world ? 
 The Son of God, the Son of Man, is gone, 
 Before whose throne we spake adoring praise ; 
 And through the shadows of the past we see 
 A graceful Rabbi, dreaming glorious dreams, 
 Dizzied with fame, then weakly stooping low 
 To poor deceits, whose death alone redeemed 
 The clouded life, and saved him from the taint 
 Of conscious falsehood. And the lips that speak 
 These bold revilings once have hymned His praise ; 
 Those hands have waved the censer's fragrant 
 
 smoke, 
 
 Those knees have knelt upon the altar stairs, 
 That heart has loved the sacred wounds of Christ ! 
 
136 VIE DE JESUS. 
 
 Why falls not fire from Heaven ? why opes not earth 
 The jaws of Hades ? And our zeal is cold ; 
 We listen and we argue, when the sword 
 Were our best answer, cutting down the pride 
 That dares blaspheme the Lord and Christ we love. 
 " But since the days are evil, and men's thoughts 
 Assert their freedom, other course is ours. 
 To battle for the faith with arms of proof, 
 Denouncing, taunting, warning men to shun 
 The tainted page, to prop the tottering Truth, 
 Condemning doubts and questions that before 
 We passed uncensured : that may help us on 
 To firmer faith, to high repute of zeal. 
 Perhaps some fame may follow, and the eyes 
 Of men admiring watch us as we stand 
 (As Phinehas stood of old to stay the plague) 
 Between the dead and living, warding off 
 Doubt's fell disease, defenders of the faith. 
 Sweet are those praises to a righteous zeal, 
 The plaudits of the timid and the good ; 
 And not less sweet the murmurs of the few 
 Who carp at our advancement. And the praise 
 May bear its fruit, the title and the wealth, . 
 The years of manhood in abounding ease, 
 The age of stately honour. When some years 
 Have passed away, when doubts and answers both 
 Are clean forgotten, this may yet remain, 
 For us the only issue of the strife." 
 
VIE DE JESUS. 137 
 
 The only issue ? What of those long years 
 That lie beyond the manhood and the age, 
 The sickness, and the death ? In that far land, 
 Throughout the eternal ages, will thy thoughts 
 Run on thus smoothly ? Hast thou learnt indeed 
 To read the times and seasons ? Hast thou heard 
 The witness which the doubter bears to thee ? 
 Thou priest, with waving censer, mitred brow, 
 And cope all stiff with crimson and with gold, 
 Hast thou forgotten that the Christ was man ? 
 Hast thou left vacant all the heart's desire, 
 And mocked it with the likeness of a child 
 Or image of the Crucified ? Thy Lord 
 Has given thee all the records of His life, 
 And thou hast made them silent. Wonder not 
 That men should fill the gap with aught that brings 
 The living Man before them. They will have 
 A Jesus with the pulse of human life, 
 The throbs of human feeling. Failing that, 
 No pageant show will draw them on to faith, 
 Nor music's spell enchant them, nor the power 
 Of ancient systems lull their souls asleep : 
 But give them this, proclaim the living Christ, 
 The youth, the man, all tempted, struggling, worn, 
 Labouring and suffering as the millions now 
 Suffer and labour, homeless, poor, contemned, 
 Not clothed in purple, faring daintily, 
 But sharing peasants' food in peasants' huts ; 
 
138 VIE DE JESUS. 
 
 And tell them that He bowed Himself to this, 
 To all the shame, the agony, the Cross, 
 For them, and sufferers like them, and be sure 
 Thou wilt find listeners. Not the gilded shrine 
 Of Virgin-Mother, clad in gorgeous robes 
 All star-bespangled, when the anthem swells, 
 And incense-fragrance floats through loftiest choir, 
 Will draw more hearts to worship than the tale 
 Of One who came their Brother and their Friend, 
 Sharing their nature, living all their life. 
 
 And thou, thou boaster of a purer faith, 
 Zealous to censure this extreme or that, 
 Is there no message for thy soul to hear ? 
 Hast thou made Christ the leader of a sect, 
 Within thine own poor limits narrowing down 
 The wider pulses of His human heart ? 
 Hast thou made much of words, and forms, and tests, 
 And thought but little of the peace and love, 
 His Gospel to the poor ? Dost thou condemn 
 Thy brother, looking down, in pride of heart, 
 On each poor wanderer from the folds of Truth ? 
 Dost thou gloss over as a venial sin 
 The trespass of the rich, his selfish state, 
 His pomp, and pride, and luxury, pressing hard, 
 As did the Pharisees of old, on sins 
 That others yield to ? Art thou swift to bind 
 Thy burdens on the poor, still making sad 
 
VIE DE J^SUS. 139 
 
 The hearts which God would gladden ? Hast thou 
 
 turned 
 
 To lifeless dogma all the living truth, 
 Feeding the hungry with the straw and chaff, 
 Mocking the thirsty with the tainted stream ? 
 Oh ! marvel not that they should turn to one 
 Who tells them of that human heart of Christ, 
 In spite of all that robs them of their hope, 
 Their faith in Him who was, and is to come, 
 The eternal Son of God. Preach thou the Christ, 
 The Judge of all the mighty ones of earth, 
 The friend of all the poor and meek of heart, 
 The foe of all the hypocrites and Scribes, 
 And thou shalt find thy words wake echoes loud 
 In hearts of all the multitude who toil, 
 To whom their Sabbath brings but sensuous rest, 
 Who enter not or church or chapel gate, 
 In grim suspicion looking on thy work 
 As leagued with those against them. Go thy way, 
 Take Heaven's own armour for the heavenly strife, 
 Welcome all helpers in thy war with sin ; 
 Make proof, full proof, of all the gifts which God 
 Has showered upon His Church, the pastor's care, 
 The preacher's power, the layman's skill to teach, 
 His unbought service, and the end will show 
 Thou need'st not fear the doubter or his book. 
 And in thy struggle cease thou not to pray 
 For him, the poor reviler, who repeats 
 
T4-0 VIE DE Ji^SUS. 
 
 That ancient blasphemy in accents new, 
 " He casts out devils by Beelzebub ; " 
 In wilful blindness he has sinned the sin 
 Against the Son of Man, yet still he loves 
 The purity and truth, the grace and peace, 
 Which drew the hearts of all men. Pray that still 
 That love may lead him onward, that the mists 
 Of that thick-gathering twilight may disperse, 
 Ere o'er him fall the darkness of the abyss, 
 The thrice-dread sin which may not be forgiven, 
 That shuts out love and pity, awe and hope ; 
 That he, the scorner, low in dust, may lie 
 Before the bright steps of the Eternal Throne, 
 And crave forgiveness. And do thou repent 
 Of all thy feigned service of thy Lord, 
 Of all thy words unreal and thoughts untrue, 
 And selfish cares, and poor and earth-born fears. 
 Judge thou thyself, the lost ones seek and save, 
 And learn through all the future of thy years 
 To form thy life in likeness of thy Lord's. 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 I SIT in the silence of evening; the shadows are 
 falling apace, 
 And forms that have vanished flit round me. The 
 
 years that are past I retrace : 
 The scroll of my life is unrolled ; one moment of vision 
 
 enough 
 To grasp all the joys and the sorrows, to travel the 
 
 smooth and the rough. 
 First come the days of my childhood, fair home on 
 
 the Gilead hills, 
 The cool balm-scent of the breeze, and the music of 
 
 murmuring rills ; 
 I joyed in the moist green meadows where Jordan 
 
 lovingly flows, 
 Bright with the golden lilies, and flushed with the 
 
 purple rose ; 
 The kids of the goats bleated kindly, following me to 
 
 the stream, 
 
142 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 And the eyes of the tame gazelle made me glad with 
 
 their womanly gleam. 
 When heroes and chiefs of my tribe marched by with 
 
 their shield and their lance, 
 And forth from the gates of the city came maidens 
 
 with song and with dance, 
 Who but I was foremost among them, rejoicing, 
 
 timbrel in hand, 
 To welcome the men stout of heart who had fought 
 
 for our fathers' land ? 
 We mourned not then for the dead : not as the fools 
 
 had they died, 
 But warring against the uncircumcised, taming the 
 
 Philistines' pride : 
 The sword of Jehovah was theirs, the Lord of Sabaoth 
 
 their guide. 
 And then when our bondage was over, we went forth 
 
 at eve from the gate 
 (No fear of the noise of archers), round the wells to 
 
 gather and wait, 
 Drawing water for mothers and children, from well 
 
 deep, sparkling, and cool, 
 Instead of the few scant drops from the city's defiled 
 
 pool. 
 Ah, bright were the days, and pleasant, the golden 
 
 spring of my year ; 
 Now the flowers of the spring are all withered, my life 
 
 is wasted and sere. 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 143 
 
 Full strange was the chance of my life ; I passed from 
 
 a fond mother's side 
 To be the beloved of a king, in all but name a king's 
 
 bride. 
 Saul saw me, and loved me, and won me, the king, 
 
 the anointed, the brave ; 
 Gladly for him had I died, yea, gladly had lived as 
 
 his slave. 
 Worthy of love he stood, in the stately pride of his 
 
 height, 
 And towered above Israel's hosts, armed and arrayed 
 
 for the fight ; 
 That lofty form was the dwelling of soul full as lofty 
 
 and great ; 
 The soul of a king was there, strong in its love and its 
 
 hate. 
 And mine, oh ! mine was the love ; the warrior, mighty 
 
 to slay, 
 In his giant embrace would fold me, with my braided 
 
 tresses would play ; 
 And ev'n when the dark hour came, and the hand 
 
 of the Lord on him fell, 
 And instead of the clear light of heaven, brought the 
 
 clouds and the darkness of hell ; 
 When moody and sullen he sat, and all were afraid 
 
 to draw near, 
 When David fled from his presence, and Jonathan 
 
 shrank from his spear, 
 
144 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 When curses fell thickly around, and the madness all 
 
 soothing defied, 
 I still might draw near without dread, might safely 
 
 crouch at his side. 
 If I failed to equal his skill, the shepherd-boy with his 
 
 song, 
 David, fair-faced, golden-haired, his soul as yet guiltless 
 
 of wrong, 
 Trained by the prophet of Ramah the songs full and 
 
 deep to intone, 
 Whose music floats, like the incense, upward through 
 
 clouds to the Throne, 
 Music that he, my king, when it rose in its wave-like 
 
 swell, 
 From the white-robed band of seers, with a strange, 
 
 o'er-mastering spell, 
 Silent and rapt, would list to, till he bowed to its 
 
 mighty sway, 
 And with kingly robes cast off, all night on the hard 
 
 earth lay ; 
 \nd instead of the curses of madness, instead of the 
 
 silent despair, 
 Joined in the great Hallelujah that burst, like a storm, 
 
 through the air, 
 " Is Saul too among the prophets?" men said, in their 
 
 wonder and scorn, 
 As the deep waters welled from the soul, through the 
 
 might of that music new-bom. 
 
KIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 145 
 
 This was not mine to do, but my woman's heart had 
 
 the trick 
 To pour in its Gilead-balm when the iron had pierced 
 
 to the quick ; 
 My touch on that burning brow would soothe the 
 
 frenzied despair ; 
 My smile would bend into fondness that fixed and 
 
 terrible glare : 
 No curses dark, no maddened rage, might my soul 
 
 in its deep love, appal ; 
 Though God and man might forsake him, he was 
 
 yet mine own, my king Saul. 
 
 Children around us grew : Armoni, the brave and 
 
 the bold, 
 With bright eyes like an antelope's, and locks of 
 
 burnished gold ; 
 Mephibosheth, oh, how unlike the crippled slave who 
 
 lives, 
 And eats at David's table of the bread his master 
 
 gives ! 
 
 No cripple, my Mephibosheth, but supple, lithe of limb, 
 Before Jehovah fair and bright, none might compare 
 
 to him. 
 When the day of his weaning came, hour of a fond 
 
 mother's pride, 
 Kish came, and Abner, to greet us ; they came from 
 
 the hills far and wide, 
 
146 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 The elders of Gilead brought gifts, the corn, and the 
 
 oil, and the wine, 
 Cheese from the milk of the goats, and fruit of the 
 
 fig-tree and vine ; 
 With dancing and song hi their joy, in music exulting 
 
 and wild, 
 They sang the praise of my boy, the praise of my 
 
 own princely child. 
 
 Now all is gone as a dream. The king (though I 
 
 saw it not) 
 
 Fell fighting with Philistines in the battle fierce and hot 
 On Gilboa's heights he fell : God's curses on them 
 
 rest! 
 May no dew of heaven fall on them, be they barren 
 
 and unblest ! 
 He fell, his brave son with him; the uncircumcised 
 
 crew 
 In that dark hour my noble Saul, the Lord's anointed, 
 
 slew ; 
 On Bethshan's wall they hung him, all stript and 
 
 stained with blood, 
 The ghastly sport of scoffers, and the vulture's hideous 
 
 food; 
 The king who had clothed us hi purple, the pride of 
 
 his people, hung there, 
 Shaming the sun in the heavens, poisoning the summer 
 
 night-air. 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 147 
 
 Blest be the warriors of Gilead, the men of Jabesh the 
 
 strong j 
 They had not forgotten the hero who saved them 
 
 from outrage and wrong ; 
 By night they came silent and swift ; not plundering, 
 
 eager to slay, 
 But holy and pure in their souls as the priests when 
 
 they stand up and pray. 
 They stole to the gate of the city ; the watchmen slept 
 
 on their posts ; 
 Speechless they crept on the walls, through the 
 
 slumbering Philistines' hosts ; 
 Goodly the spoil they brought back, the mouldering 
 
 bones of the brave ; 
 They gave them a chieftain's burial, they dug them a 
 
 chieftain's grave ; 
 Under that old oak of Jabesh they laid him, the 
 
 lordly, the tall ; 
 For seven days and nights they wept sore over their 
 
 king, and my king, my Saul. 
 
 It was well. David heard it. It pleased him : he 
 
 too would lament. 
 
 Over the beauty of Israel. In every Israelite's tent 
 That song of the Bow re-echoed, 1 which told of the 
 
 father and son, 
 Lovely and pleasant together, in life as in death ever 
 
 one; 
 
 L 2 
 
148 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 Which told of the wonderful love, tender, and fervent, 
 
 and true, 
 The love of the pure and the stainless, love granted 
 
 only to few. 
 " Passing the love of woman," he called it. Well 
 
 might he call ; 
 He gauged not the depths of my heart, my love for 
 
 my hero, my Saul ; 
 He married for power or for wealth, paving his steps 
 
 to the throne ; 
 Men might admire him and love, but no woman's 
 
 heart was his own ; 
 Michal, Saul's daughter, she scorned him, and Bath- 
 
 sheba's homage, I ween, 
 Was not as a true maiden's love, but the trick of a 
 
 would-be queen. 
 
 The days of my mourning were over. I wept for 
 my dead for a while ; 
 
 But a mother needs must rejoice in the light of her 
 children's smile : 
 
 They grew in their youth, and their manhood, keen- 
 eyed, quick of foot and of hand, 
 
 And Abner spake loud in their praise, as the first of 
 his goodly band. 
 
 Abner, the brave, he too loved me ; I was fain to 
 love him in return ; 
 
 To whom in her desolate shame could the outcast 
 concubine turn ? 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 149 
 
 Yet not as Saul could I love him; the freshness of 
 
 passion was gone, 
 Which sweeps the whole current of life to its loved 
 
 one exultingly on ; 
 I was fair in his sight ; and he, I found him kindly 
 
 and brave ; 
 I was true as a wife to her husband, and wept true 
 
 tears at his grave. 
 My sons too found him a father : he taught them the 
 
 use of the bow, 
 Taught them to strike down the lion, to fight, hand 
 
 to hand, with the foe. 
 They fought for the birthright of Saul in that long 
 
 and lingering strife. 
 The sons of a king were they, in them flowed the 
 
 kingly life : 
 They were true to their name and their fame, true 
 
 to their oath and their word, 
 Till at last the struggle was over, and Israel owned 
 
 David as lord. 
 " Now," I thought, " they are mine till I die. The 
 
 danger is over, is past ; 
 My life will no longer be dreary, the sky is no longer 
 
 o'ercast." 
 
150 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 II. 
 
 So it was for a time ; but ere long there fell upon 
 
 Israel a curse, 
 Evil still following on evil, bad passing on into 
 
 worse ; 
 No showers fell softly from heaven, the streams of 
 
 the hills were all hushed, 
 The hot sun had burnt them all up, and the sky as 
 
 a furnace was flushed ; 
 Red, fierce, and malignant its rays, like flames from 
 
 a fathomless hell, 
 
 Over the dry, parched vineyards and the desolate olive- 
 grounds fell ; 
 Wild asses ran hither and thither, snuffing the air as 
 
 they went, 
 The streams that water the valleys were long since 
 
 vanished and spent 
 Iron-bound and hard was the earth : no tender 
 
 herbage was seen ; 
 No fresh corn gladdened the eyes with its tufts of 
 
 feathery green ; 
 The fair broad valleys of Shechem were like one vast 
 
 desert of sand, 
 And the people fainted with hunger ; the famine was 
 
 sore in the land. 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 151 
 
 Three years passed over our heads, with the sickness 
 
 of hope deferred ; 
 They prayed, but they prayed in vain; not a voice 
 
 to answer was heard ; 
 The king mourned sore for his people, the people 
 
 were hushed in despair : 
 What arm but their God's could relieve them ? and 
 
 that arm against them was bare. 
 When vision and prophet had failed them, they turned 
 
 in their utter distress 
 To the great High Priest of our nation, and he, in 
 
 his priestly dress, 
 In the bright robes of Aaron his father (so have they 
 
 told me the tale) 
 Entered the Holy of Holies, the darkness within the 
 
 veil; 
 The twelve bright gems on his breast, that he for 
 
 his people might plead, 
 No tribe unremembered there in that hour of the 
 
 nation's need ; 
 
 And over his heart there sparkled the Urim's mys- 
 terious glow, 2 
 Its wild, oracular rays pregnant with weal or with 
 
 woe; 
 As he went (so they told me) it gleamed with the 
 
 lurid, terrible red, 
 Which told that blood-guilt was upon us, that for 
 
 blood more blood must be shed. 
 
152 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 And Abiathar standing there, with fixed, immoveable 
 
 gaze, 
 Looked down through the thick, black darkness on 
 
 the strange, disastrous blaze. 
 Long time he stood stiffened and dumb, by the hand 
 
 of Jehovah oppressed ; 
 At last, half-choked as he spake it, the hollow voice 
 
 came from his breast : 
 Forth from his faltering lips the death-bearing oracle 
 
 flew : 
 " For Saul and his bloody house, for them who the 
 
 Gibeonites slew, 
 For them has the curse fallen on us, for them has 
 
 the land waxen faint ; 
 
 Theirs is the putrid sore, yea, theirs is the pestilent taint ; 
 The sword of the Lord will fall heavy alike on evil 
 
 and good ; 
 All have shared in the guilt by their silence the land 
 
 is defiled with blood." 
 
 I knew it. That slaughter was evil. They had not 
 
 wronged him, those slaves, 
 Hewing wood, drawing water, nought else, till they 
 
 slept in their graves : 
 No glory was there to win, no men of renown to 
 
 lay low ; 
 They perished as brute beasts perish, bowing their 
 
 heads to the blow ; 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 153 
 
 Why should Saul, the hero, the strong, stain his sword 
 
 with the blood of the weak ? 
 What led him on children and women his terrible 
 
 vengeance to wreak ? 
 I know not. The deed was done. In vain for mercy 
 
 they cried ; 
 The oath of our fathers availed not; Saul gave the 
 
 command, and they died. 
 It was true : I may not deny it ; atonement was 
 
 needed. No time 
 Could blot out that foul stain of blood, could cancel 
 
 that dark day of crime ; 
 The cries of the widow and orphan had risen for 
 
 vengeance on high ;. 
 Thence came the drought and the famine, the curse 
 
 on the earth and the sky ; 
 Gladly we offered our treasures, our gold and our 
 
 silver, our all, 
 To build up the desolate homes made empty and 
 
 lonely by Saul. 
 But, oh ! was it right to risk all on the hated 
 
 Gibeonites' choice, 
 The lives of the freemen of Israel to hang on the 
 
 . bond-slaves' voice, 
 The sons of a king to perish for obeying their 
 
 father's command, 
 As the scapegoat dies in the wilderness, bearing the 
 
 sins of the land ? 
 
154 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 Wily and subtle as ever, the Gibeonites scoffed at our 
 
 prayer ; 
 No sight would glut their revenge but the looking 
 
 on our despair ; 
 They knew that the fallen are friendless. One only 
 
 King David would save ; 
 The son of his darling Jonathan might creep to his 
 
 father's grave ; 
 Dearly did Michal pay for the taunt of her passing 
 
 scorn, 
 When the five who called her mother from her fond 
 
 embrace were torn. 
 Was it well this deed should be his, the Psalmist-king 
 
 who had told 
 Of truths that our fathers knew not in the rougher 
 
 days of old ? 
 From the white-robed choir of the Levites, in the 
 
 courts of our Sacred Tent, 
 His hymns had spread through all Israel, waking new 
 
 thoughts as they went, 
 Proclaiming to all that no blood of bulls or of goats 
 
 might avail, 
 That thousands of rams, ten thousands of rivers of 
 
 oil would fail, 
 That one thing only God asks for, the broken and 
 
 penitent heart, 
 That all who repent and believe in the glad news of 
 
 mercy have part. 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 155 
 
 Was it right that he should disown this, that human 
 
 victims should bleed, 
 As for Moloch, the King of Gehenna, to the true 
 
 God of Abraham's seed ? 
 Was the sickening odour that tainted the soft south 
 
 wind as it passed, 
 A fragrance of sweet-smelling incense that in His sight 
 
 found favour at last ? 
 
 I know not : faint, weary, perplexed, I bowed my 
 
 head to the shame, 
 I did not tremble or weep when the hour of my 
 
 agony came : 
 They led them out one by one, they fastened each 
 
 to his cross, 
 While I, the mother, stood silent, counting my infinite 
 
 loss; 
 With nail and with cord they bound them, each one 
 
 to his cursed tree 
 On the hill of Gibeah of Saul (so ran King David's 
 
 decree), 
 Before the Lord they hanged them, with muttered 
 
 curses and prayei, 
 And the priests laid the sins of the nation on their 
 
 heads of waving hair ; 
 In Gibeah of Saul, in the home where they in thei r 
 
 childhood had played, 
 And their father's heart had exulted, as he sat in the 
 
 terebinth's shade, 
 
156 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 In Gibeah of Saul, where of old the people had 
 
 hailed him as king, 
 Glad to repose for a while, their jubilant praises to 
 
 sing. 
 
 A few days before, when as yet the barley was 
 
 green in the ear, 
 They and I ate our Passover meal. We wept not; 
 
 no tear 
 Made the bitter herbs yet more bitter. With solemn, 
 
 unwavering voice 
 They sang of the stretched-out arm that had made 
 
 our fathers rejoice. 
 It was over, that feast. Ere yet the people had 
 
 gone to their home, 
 Ere the sickle was put to the corn, or the ripening 
 
 wave-sheaf had come, 
 They led them forth one by one, my own, my goodly 
 
 and brave. 
 They trembled not, feared not : not with the dread 
 
 of the slave, 
 Not with the fire of the warrior struggling with 
 
 passionate breath, 
 Not with the tears of a woman, went they to the 
 
 hour of their death. 
 Strange peace, not of earth, had come o'er them. 
 
 They stood there, willing to die, 
 Offered for Israel's sake, to draw rain from the hot, 
 
 sullen sky. 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 157 
 
 Without one struggle or cry, calm in their patience 
 
 they stood, 
 Calm as when Abraham, our father, laid Isaac, his 
 
 son, on the wood, 
 Patient as Isaac was when he bowed his head to the 
 
 knife ; 
 Dumb as the sheep to his shearers, so they, too, yielded 
 
 their life. 
 
 That, too, was over. The crowds were scattered 
 
 each to his own ; 
 The darkness came over the land. I was left to 
 
 mourn there alone ; 
 I looked on the pale, wan features that once I had 
 
 lovingly pressed, 
 Sweet with the fragrant oil as a field which the Lord 
 
 God hath blest ; 
 I looked on the tortured forms, which once were 
 
 supple and lithe, 
 Leaping from crag to crag, as the roebuck joyous 
 
 and blithe ; 
 Weary and worn I slept not, yet my waking thoughts 
 
 were as dreams ; 
 Through the dark overhanging shadows there came 
 
 strange and wonderful gleams. 
 I had asked in my woe, " How came this ? Why did 
 
 evil begin ? 
 Why should fresh curse upon curse fall, heaping sin 
 
 upon sin? 
 
158 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 Why was their youth cut off in all its beauty and 
 
 prime ? 
 How could their blood atone for their own or their 
 
 fathers' crime?" 
 A voice came forth from the darkness, just heard in 
 
 the silence of night, 
 A whisper making one tremble, a murmur ineffably 
 
 light; 
 "And hast thou not learnt it, O mourner? hath not 
 
 the oracle come, 
 Giving sight to the eyes that were blind, giving speech 
 
 to the lips that were dumb ? 
 Thy sons, thou hast loved them of old, but when in 
 
 thy life didst thou know 
 The power of love in its might till that love was 
 
 mingled with woe ? 
 When were they worthiest of love? Was it when 
 
 eager and young, 
 They chased the wild deer on the hills, and, leaping, 
 
 rejoiced as they sung ? 
 Was it when, ardent, exulting, they fought with the 
 
 foes of their race, 
 
 To the fiercest and bravest of all turning their lion- 
 like face? 
 Or is it not now, when thou seest them a sacrifice 
 
 meet for the Lord, 
 Willing victims, self-offered, pure, looking on high for 
 
 reward ? 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 159 
 
 Yes, He owns them, their Father, their God, the 
 
 Almighty, All Good, 
 Not as Moloch, the King of Gehenna, delighting in 
 
 slaughter and blood, 
 But rejoicing, accepting, forgiving, whenever the fire 
 
 of his love 
 Burns in the hearts of his servants, as it burns in 
 
 the seraphs above, 
 When, ceasing to live for themselves, they are ready 
 
 to die for their race, 
 Willing as cursed to suffer, that it may find mercy 
 
 and grace : 
 Through all the confusions of guilt, David's weakness, 
 
 the Gibeonites' wrong, 
 Through all the harsh discords and darkness God is 
 
 still eternally strong ; 
 The thick clouds of evil pass off, the distant horizon 
 
 is clear, 
 
 The day-star of hope has arisen, the dawn of Redemp- 
 tion is near." 
 
 As the word of the Lord comes to prophet or 
 
 priest, so it came, 
 Making my bones to tremble, burning my heart with 
 
 its flame, 
 And then as new thoughts woke within me, I 
 
 questioned once more : 
 "Ah me, if the death of my sons can thus avail to restore, 
 
l6o RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 Can turn from a sin-stained land the darkness that 
 
 over it hung, 
 Giving life to the perishing soul, giving speech to the 
 
 faltering tongue, 
 What might not He do, when He, the King, the 
 
 Anointed shall come, 
 Claiming us all as His people, leading us all to His 
 
 home; 
 He whom our prophets have told of, saying to His 
 
 Father, ' Thy will, 
 Yea, even thine, O my God, have I come upon earth 
 
 to fulfil.' 
 If a king were to reign on this earth, not warring 
 
 and slaying, like Saul, 
 But ruling in mercy and peace, loving and gentle 
 
 to all, 
 Nobler and truer and kinder than David was in his 
 
 youth, 
 Walking in stainless purity, clad in invincible 
 
 truth; 
 If He, in the depth of His love, were willing His 
 
 people to save 
 From all that torments and divides them, from death 
 
 and the power of the grave ; 
 If He, as my sons hang before me, were to hang on 
 
 the cursed tree, 
 Self-yielding His life when His will to keep or to lose 
 
 it was free, 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. l6l 
 
 Choosing to suffer man's sorrows, choosing man's 
 burden to bear, 
 
 Tempted as they are tempted, tasting their doubt and 
 despair, 
 
 Would not that life be great beyond all man's fancy 
 can dream ? 
 
 Would not that death be strong in the might of its 
 power to redeem ? 
 
 There also my sorrow, it may be, shall not be con- 
 temned in his eyes ; 
 
 There, also, a mother's fond love may watch by the 
 cross till He dies. 
 
 I feel I can measure her grief: I dare believe He 
 would turn 
 
 His pitying look upon me, nor the sin-stained con- 
 cubine spurn ; 
 
 Outcast and scorned though I be, I dream I might 
 venture there 
 
 To wash His feet with my tears, to wipe those feet 
 with my hair." 
 
 The vision was over; I woke to my lonely, terrible task, 
 But hope, strength, life were within me, all I had 
 
 ventured to ask ; 
 On the rock I spread forth my sackcloth, with my 
 
 torch 1 scared away 
 The vultures and the dogs unclean that scented out 
 
 their prey. 
 
 M 
 
162 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 Day passed on after day, and the harvest-fields grew 
 
 white, 
 And the maiden-gleaners shuddered as they watched 
 
 the ghastly sight : 
 All summer long I bore the heat of the fiery sun at 
 
 noon, 
 And at night I faced the maddening rays of the sullen, 
 
 lurid moon ; 
 
 The bodies withered on the trees, till at last the rain- 
 drops fell, 
 The first fresh showers that blest the earth with soft 
 
 and quickening spell : 
 " The curse was past," men said, " their fears for the 
 
 future might cease, 
 The Lord was entreated for Israel ; the land might 
 
 again dwell in peace." 
 
 Men told the king of my watching, and the heart 
 
 of David was moved, 
 And once again there woke in him the thought of 
 
 those he had loved. 
 He gave them a kingly tomb : in the grave of their 
 
 fathers they sleep ; 
 Men may go there to tell of their praise, I may go 
 
 there to sit and to weep : 
 And the heroes also are there. In that grave father 
 
 and son, 
 Lovely and pleasant together, still undivided are one, 
 
RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 163 
 
 My sons, too, sleep with their father, and I, when the 
 
 Angel of Death 
 Shall summon my soul to depart with the icy cold of 
 
 his breath, 
 When life's long struggle is over, and the shadows 
 
 over me fall, 
 Shall lie down to rest by his side, by the side of my 
 
 loved one, my Saul. 
 
 March, 1864. 
 
 M 2 
 
TRANSLATIONS. 
 
L 
 
 THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 
 
 FOR the day when the chieftains of Israel towered 
 in the height of their fame, 
 
 For the day when the people that followed, self- 
 offered, with willing hearts came, 
 Bless ye the Lord in the highest, His might and His 
 glory proclaim. 
 
 Hear, O ye kings of the earth ; give ear, ye mighty 
 and strong ; 
 
 I, even I, will exalt Him, I will praise Him with 
 music and song ; 
 
 To the Lord God of Israel, our king, sing praises to- 
 day as of old, 
 
 When from Seir He came in His glory with wonders 
 our fathers have told ; 
 
 From the wild plains of Edom He marched, and the 
 heavens were shaken with dread ; 
 
 The torrent-rain fell from the clouds, and the earth 
 was moved at His tread, 
 
l68 THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 
 
 The mountains reeled from their base, they flowed 
 
 as the great deep flows, 
 And Sinai trembled before Him, when the Lord God 
 
 of Israel arose. 
 
 From the old days of Shamgar-ben-Anath, to the 
 
 days of jael, the land 
 Lay waste, and devoured by oppressors, a prey to the 
 
 enemy's hand ; 
 The highways of Israel that echoed the tramp of the 
 
 traveller's tread, 
 Deserted and silent ran on, as though through the 
 
 realms of the dead ; 
 The straggler that journeyed alone, in his fear of the 
 
 foeman's wrath, 
 In the dark shade of evening stole through the wild 
 
 hills' wildest path ; 
 The villagers ceased to assemble, they cowered from 
 
 the sight of their foes, 
 
 Until I, Deborah, appeared, as a mother in Israel arose. 
 Then, at length, new chieftains they chose, as Gods 
 
 to guide and to save ; l 
 Once more in their gates was heard the shout of the 
 
 warlike and brave ; 
 Yet not even then did. they meet as an army arrayed 
 
 for the fight, 
 Though twice ten thousand were there, not a spear or 
 
 shield was in sight. 
 
THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 169 
 
 My whole heart is eager to greet them, the chieftains 
 
 spotless in fame, 
 The people who, offering their lives, with brave and 
 
 willing hearts came ; 
 Bless ye the Lord in the highest, His might and His 
 
 glory proclaim. 
 And ye who ride forth on white asses, as princes and 
 
 counsellors ride, 
 Ye who sit in the gate to give judgment, let your 
 
 voice be heard by their side ; 
 From the lips of those who rejoice at eve round the 
 
 wells cool and calm, 2 
 Let the right deeds of God swell your hearts with 
 
 the tones of the jubilant psalm, 
 The right deeds of God, which He for the people of 
 
 Israel hath done, 
 The people He claims as his own, who went forth to 
 
 the battle, and won. 
 
 Awake, awake, O Deborah, awake, Oh, awake to the 
 
 song, 
 
 Arise, O son of Abinoam, arise, O Barak the strong, 
 Lead forth thy conquered, thy captives, marching 
 
 in triumph along. 3 
 
 The battle was won by the few; of our host but a 
 
 remnant was there ; 
 
 But that remnant was noble in heart, and the Lord's 
 arm to help them was bare ; 
 
170 THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 
 
 Above all the heroes, the strong ones, to me was the 
 
 victory given; 
 A woman's voice guided that host, her words were as 
 
 counsels from Heaven. 
 Foremost of all, ye came, ye warriors of Ephraim, 
 
 our pride, 
 True stock of the heroes of old who fighting with 
 
 Amalek died; 4 
 
 After you came the bravest of Benjamin, goodly and tall ; 
 From Machir the chiefs of Manasseh rushed down 
 
 to the fight at my call ; 
 Zebulun sent forth her sons; with the sceptre of 
 
 princes they came ; 
 And Issachar also was true to the height of his 
 
 ancient fame ; 
 By the side of Deborah the princes of Issachar fought 
 
 as she led, 
 By the side of Barak they marched down the valley 
 
 with conquering tread. 
 
 Behold ! by the fair streams of Reuben his chief- 
 tains met in debate ; 
 
 Mighty the stirrings of counsel, the searchings of 
 heart, oh, how great ! 
 
 Why after all did'st thou linger, tarrying behind in the 
 fold, 
 
 To list to the bleating of sheep, when the war-cry 
 summoned the bold ? 
 
THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 
 
 By the fair streams of Reuben they gathered, her 
 
 chieftains met in debate, 
 Mighty the stirrings of counsel, the searchings of heart, 
 
 oh, how great ! 
 And Gilead too held back his strength, content 
 
 beyond Jordan to stay, 
 And Dan watched the fishermen's boats as they plied 
 
 to and fro in the bay, 
 And Asher looked out on the waves, and lazily dwelt 
 
 on his coasts ; 
 Not a man of them all came forth to the help of the 
 
 Lord God of Hosts. 
 The people who perilled their lives from Zebulun and 
 
 Naphtali came ; 
 On the heights of the mountains they triumphed, 
 
 fighting for freedom and fame. 
 
 They fought, those kings of the nations, the chiefs 
 
 of the Canaanites' land, 
 Where the torrent-streams of Megiddo roll down by 
 
 Taanach's strand ; 
 
 But not for them was the glory of victors dividing the spoil, 
 No heaped-up treasure of silver paid them for their 
 
 blood and their toil : 
 A mightier army than theirs was fighting unseen on 
 
 our side ; 
 The stars as they moved in their courses made war 
 
 upon Sisera's pride : 
 
172 THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 
 
 The white-foaming waters of Kishon swept them away 
 
 in its might, 
 Kishon, the onward-rushing, swoln with the storm of 
 
 the night ; 5 
 Struggling, and plunging, and whirling, maddened with 
 
 fear and dismay, 
 The horse and his rider went down ; the proud river 
 
 swept them away. 
 
 " Curse ye the people of Meroz," the word from the 
 
 Prophet's lips came, 6 
 Whose voice, as an Angel of God's, was mighty to 
 
 praise and to blame ; 
 " Yea, with a bitter curse curse them, the craven, 
 
 the faint-hearted crew ; 
 They came not forth in that hour to the help of God's 
 
 chosen and true ; 
 They left them to struggle alone, the mighty and strong 
 
 to pursue." 
 But blessed, thrice blessed be Jael ; from the tents of 
 
 that stranger-band, 
 The name of the wife of Heber shall sound through 
 
 the breadth of the land. 
 He came, hot and parched to her door, the fever of 
 
 battle was strong ; 
 He asked her for water to drink, for the way was 
 
 weary and long ; 
 
THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 173 
 
 With kind words she welcomed him in, and the milk 
 
 cool and freshening she poured ; 
 In her costliest vessel she brought it, as a handmaid 
 
 waits on her lord. 
 Weary and faint he slumbered. She put forth her 
 
 hand to the nail, 
 With the workman's hammer she smote it (not then 
 
 did her woman's heart quail) 
 She smote him there as he lay, through brow and 
 
 through temples it went ; 
 Stricken and bleeding, the carcase of Sisera lay in 
 
 her tent : 
 One struggle, one cry; it was over; the hero, the 
 
 Canaanites' pride, 
 At her feet lay lifeless and pale; he bowed, he fell 
 
 down, and he died. 
 
 Far off in the palace of Jabin, with looks proud, 
 
 eager, amazed, 
 Forth from her latticed window the mother of Sisera 
 
 gazed : 
 " Why lingers the conqueror's chariot ? Why hear I 
 
 not, borne on the wind, 
 The clang of the strong iron wheels, and the tramp of 
 
 the army behind ? " 
 " Oh ! dream not of failure," they answered, her 
 
 maidens, swift to divine, 
 
174 THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 
 
 (Yea, like answer she made to herself), " the glory of 
 
 conquest is thine ; 
 Surely they conquer once more. In triumph they 
 
 bring back their prey ; 
 The maidens of Israel shall yield to the might of their 
 
 captors to-day ; 
 And for Sisera's neck, as he rides in his glory home 
 
 from the fight, 
 The costliest robes of their priests, 7 with mmgled hues 
 
 glorious and bright, 
 Broidered by fair maidens' fingers, on both sides 
 
 radiant alike, 
 Meet for the necks of the heroes whose right hands 
 
 have known how to strike." 
 
 So let them boast in their folly ; so let them dream 
 
 in their pride ; 
 
 So perish thy foes, O Jehovah, dying as Sisera died ; 
 But the people that love Thee, Thy chosen, the heroes 
 
 who walk in Thy light, 
 Let them shine evermore as the sun when he rides 
 
 through the heavens in his might. 
 
 March, 1864. 
 
II. 
 THE EARLIEST CHRISTIAN HYMN, 
 
 (FROM THE GREEK OF CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA.) 1 
 
 for the stubborn steed, 
 Making its will give heed ; 
 Wing that directest right 
 The wild bird's wandering flight ; 
 Helm for the ships that keep 
 Their pathway o'er the deep ; 
 Shepherd of sheep that own 
 Their Master on the throne, 
 Stir up Thy children meek 
 With guileless lips to speak, 
 In hymn and song, Thy praise, 
 Guide of their infant ways. 
 O King of Saints, O Lord, 
 Mighty, all-conquering Word ; 
 Son of the highest God 
 Wielding His Wisdom's rod ; 
 
176 THE EARLIEST CHRISTIAN HYMN. 
 
 Our stay when cares annoy, 
 Giver of endless joy ; 
 Of all our mortal race 
 Saviour, of boundless grace, 
 
 O Jesus, hear. 
 Shepherd and Sower Thou, 
 Now helm, and bridle now ; 
 Wing for the heavenward flight 
 Of flock all pure and bright ; 
 Fisher of men, the blest, 
 Out of the world's unrest, 
 Out of Sin's troubled sea 
 Taking us, Lord, to Thee ; 
 Out of the waves of strife 
 With bait of blissful life, 
 With choicest fish, good store, 
 Drawing Thy nets to shore. 
 Lead us, O Shepherd true, 
 Thy mystic sheep, we sue, 
 Lead us, O Holy Lord, 
 Who from Thy sons dost ward, 
 With all-prevailing charm, 
 Peril, and curse, and harm ; 
 O path where Christ has trod, 
 O Way that leads to God, 
 O Word, abiding aye, 
 O endless Light on high, 
 
THE EARLIEST CHRISTIAN HYMN. 177 
 
 Mercy's fresh-springing flood, 
 Worker of all things good, 
 O glorious Life of all 
 That on their Maker call, 
 
 Christ Jesus, hear. 
 O Milk of Heaven, that prest 
 From full, o'erflowing breast 
 Of her, the mystic Bride, 
 Thy Wisdom hath supplied ; 
 Thine infant children seek, 
 With baby lips, all weak, 
 Filled with the Spirit's dew 
 From that dear bosom true, 
 Thy praises pure to sing, 
 Hymns meet for Thee, our King, 
 
 For Thee, the Christ ; 
 Our holy tribute this, 
 For wisdom, life, and bliss, 
 Singing in chorus meet, 
 Singing in concert sweet, 
 
 The Almighty Son : 
 We, heirs of peace unpriced, 
 We, who are born in Christ, 
 A people pure from stain, 
 Praise we our God again, 
 
 Lord of our Peace. 
 
 March, 1 8 64. 
 
HYMNS 
 
 FOR 
 
 SCHOOL OR COLLEGE, 
 
 ETC. 
 
HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE, 
 
 " This is none other but the house of God." 
 
 OGOD, whose angels once did bless 
 The wanderer in his lonely sleep, 
 Descending, rising, to and fro, 
 
 Their watch around his couch to keep ; 
 Be with us now, let seraph tongues 
 
 Breathe forth their song of sin forgiven, 
 And tell us this is holy ground, 
 
 The House of God, the gate of Heaven. 
 
 O Lord, whose glory once did shine 
 
 With mystic cloud the courts to fill, 
 Which David's Son, in kingly state, 
 
 Had reared on Zion's holy hill : 
 Be with us now, as Priest and King, 
 
 In clouds and darkness claim thine own ; 
 Let this our Temple see Thy light, 
 
 Thou Christ upon Thy Father's throne. 
 
182 HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 
 
 O Holy Spirit, Lord of Life, 
 
 Whose voice we hear in varying tones, 
 Revealing glories yet to come, 
 
 The Temple built of living stones ; 
 Cleanse Thou our hearts, our roughness smooth, 
 
 And bring us daily nearer Thee, 
 Within Thine own eternal house, 
 
 As polished corner-stones to be. 
 
 O Mystic Three, O Holiest One, 
 
 Thou Lord of Wisdom, Light, and Love, 
 Give strength to do Thy work on earth, 
 
 Give grace to sing Thy praise above ; 
 Let infant lips Thy glory speak, 
 
 On youth Thy choicest blessings send ; 
 Let manhood find its rest in Thee, 
 
 And age grow riper for the end. 
 
 So on through all the circling years, 
 
 May reverent footsteps mark the days, 
 And full-toned voices offer here 
 
 Their morning sacrifice of praise : 
 So guide us through earth's toilsome paths, 
 
 And bid us onward, upward rise, 
 That we, when all our work is done, 
 
 May rest with Thee in Paradise. 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 183 
 
 o 
 
 II. 
 
 " Beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord." 
 
 LORD of Hosts, all heaven possessing, 
 
 Behold us from thy sapphire throne, 
 In doubt and darkness dimly guessing, 
 
 We might Thy glory half have known ; 
 But Thou in Christ hast made us Thine, 
 And on us all Thy beauties shine. 
 
 Illumine all, disciples, teachers, 
 
 Thy Law's deep wonders to unfold ; 
 
 With rev'rent hand let Wisdom's preachers 
 Bring forth their treasures new and old ; 
 
 Let oldest, youngest, find in Thee, 
 
 Of Truth and Love the boundless sea. 
 
 Let Faith still light the lamp of Science, 
 And Knowledge pass from truth to truth, 
 
 And Wisdom, in her full reliance, 
 Renew the primal awe of youth ; 
 
 So holier, wiser, may we grow, 
 
 As Time's swift currents onward flow. 
 
184 HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 
 
 Grant, Lord, that we, in patience gleaning, 
 Thy truths in memory's shrine may store ; 
 
 Reveal to us each secret meaning 
 Of all Thy word's divinest lore ; 
 
 When round us mists of evening rise, 
 
 Shine Thou upon our wistful eyes. 
 
 Bind Thou our life in fullest union 
 With all thy saints from sin set free ; 
 
 Uphold us in that blest communion 
 Of all thy saints on earth with Thee ; 
 
 Keep Thou our souls, or here, or there, 
 
 In mightiest love that casts out fear. 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 185 
 
 III. 
 
 " I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." 
 
 O LIGHT, whose beams illumine all, 
 From twilight dawn to perfect day, 
 Shine Thou before the shadows fall, 
 
 That lead our wandering feet astray ; 
 At morn and eve Thy radiance pour, 
 That youth may love and age adore. 
 
 O Way, through whom our souls draw near 
 To yon eternal Home of Peace, 
 
 Where perfect love shall cast out fear, 
 
 And earth's vain toil and wandering cease ; 
 
 In strength or weakness may we see 
 
 Our heavenward path, O Lord, through Thee. 
 
 O Truth, before whose shrine we bow, 
 Thou priceless pearl for all who seek, 
 
 To thee our earliest strength we vow, 
 Thy love will bless the pure and meek ; 
 
 When dreams or mists beguile our sight 
 
 Turn Thou our darkness into light. 
 
l86 HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 
 
 O Life, the well that ever flows 
 
 To slake the thirst of those that faint, 
 
 Thy power to bless what seraph knows ? 
 Thy joy supreme what words can paint ? 
 
 In earth's last hour of fleeting breath, 
 
 Be Thou our conqueror over Death. 
 
 O Light, O Way, O Truth, O Life, 
 O Jesus, born mankind to save, 
 
 Give Thou Thy peace in deadliest strife, 
 Shed Thou Thy calm on stormiest wave ; 
 
 Be Thou our hope, our joy, our dread, 
 
 Lord of the Living and the Dead. 
 
 O mightiest Three, O holiest One, 
 Of all in heaven and earth the King, 
 
 All power and glory Thou hast won, 
 To Thee all saints and angels sing ; 
 
 Still serving, through the eternal rest, 
 
 They do Thy bidding, and are blest 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 187 
 
 IV. 
 
 One generation shall praise Thy works unto another." 
 
 O PRAISE the Lord our God, 
 In clouds and darkness dwelling, 
 Yet Fount of shadeless Light, 
 All light of earth excelling. 
 He guides us on to age 
 
 Through sunlit paths of youth ; 
 He glads our longing eyes 
 With full, unveiled truth. 
 
 That truth, O Lord, we seek, 
 
 In spirit meek and lowly ; 
 To all who learn or teach 
 
 Give wisdom pure and holy. 
 In solemn awe we bend, 
 
 All wondering, round Thy throne, 
 And Thee, our Lord, our Life, 
 
 Our Joy, our Gladness own. 
 
l88 HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 
 
 O Lord of Truth and Light, 
 
 All heaven and earth possessing, 
 Grant us Thy laws to know, 
 
 Our daily task-work blessing ; 
 Teach us Thy love to see, 
 
 O'er earth and heaven outspread, 
 While Wisdom, conquering Fear, 
 
 With highest Faith shall wed. 
 
 All praise and thanks to Thee, 
 
 Eternal Lord, be given, 
 For all Thy help on earth, 
 
 For all our hopes of Heaven ; 
 Thy Name, the One, the Three, 
 
 Through aeons yet to come, 
 All saints and angels sing, 
 
 Their Light, their Peace, their Home. 
 
 May, 1864. 
 
HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 189 
 
 V. 
 
 " I have the keys of Hell and of Death." 
 
 OLORD, Thine other names are sweet, 
 As music to the listening ear ; 
 But this thrills all our awe-struck heart 
 
 With fitful pulse of gloomiest fear ; 
 Thou King of Heaven and dost Thou dwell, 
 The holder of the keys of Hell ? 
 
 O Light of Love ! O Fount of Life ! 
 
 Clear spring of joy for all on earth, 
 Still quickening all to higher mood, 
 
 Thou worker of the second birth ; 
 From Thee we draw each moment's breath, 
 And art Thou then the Lord of Death ? 
 
 Yea, Lord ! through all that drear abyss, 
 Where spirits wail their evil past, 
 
 Thy Love and Pity still look on, 
 
 Long-suffering, conquering at the last ; 
 
 From Thee flow mercy, pardon, peace, 
 
 From Thee the woe that shall not cease. 
 
HYMNS FOR SCHOOL OR COLLEGE. 
 
 O Christ, Eternal Light of Love ! 
 
 O Judge, Eternal Fire of Wrath ! 
 Guide Thou our steps the narrow way, 
 
 Oh, lead us on the upward path ; 
 Our darkness let Thy light illume, 
 Thy fire our baser dross consume. 
 
 We need not turn for help or grace, 
 To saint's or martyr's pitying ruth, 
 
 For Thou art still the Way, the Life, 
 In Thee all Mercy meets all Truth ; 
 
 Oh, leave us not, Thou Lord of All, 
 
 Through pains of death from Thee to fall. 
 
 Oh, plunge us in Thy priceless blood, 
 Oh, purge us in Thy cleansing fire j 
 
 Wash out each stain of sinful birth, 
 Burn out each taint of low desire ; 
 
 Through fire and water lead Thine own 
 
 To rest before Thy Father's throne. 
 
 June, 1864. 
 
PROCESSIONAL. 
 
 In the name of our God we will set up our banners.* 
 
 EJOICE ye pure in heart, 
 LV Rejoice, give thanks, and sing ; 
 Your orient banners wave on high, 
 The cross of Christ your King. 
 
 Bright youth and snow-crowned age, 
 
 Strong men and maidens meek, 
 Raise high your free, exulting song, 
 
 God's wondrous praise to speak. 
 
 Yes, onward, onward still, 
 
 With hymn, and chant, and song, 
 
 Through gate, and porch, and columned aisle 
 The hallowed pathways throng. 
 
 With ordered feet pass on ; 
 
 Bid thoughts of evil cease, 
 Ye may not bring the strife of tongues 
 
 Within the Home of Peace. 
 
PROCESSIONAL. 
 
 With all the angel choirs, 
 With all the saints on earth, 
 
 Pour out the strains of joy and bliss, 
 True rapture, noblest mirth. 
 
 Your clear Hosannas raise, 
 
 And Hallelujahs loud, 
 Whilst answering echoes upward float, 
 
 Like wreaths of incense cloud. 
 
 With voice as full and strong 
 
 As ocean's surging praise, 
 Send forth the hymns our fathers loved, 
 
 The psalms of ancient days. 
 
 Yes, on through life's long path, 
 
 Still chanting as ye go, 
 From youth to age, by night and day, 
 
 In gladness and in woe. 
 
 Still lift your standard high, 
 
 Still march in firm array ; 
 As warriors through the darkness toil 
 
 Till dawns the golden day. 
 
 At last the march shall end, 
 The wearied ones shall rest ; 
 
 The pilgrims find their Father's home, 
 Jerusalem the Blest. 
 
PROCESSIONAL. 193 
 
 Then on, ye pure in heart, 
 
 Rejoice, give thanks, and sing : 
 
 Your orient banner wave on high, 
 The cross of Christ your King. 
 
 Praise Him who reigns on high, 
 The Lord whom we adore ; 
 
 The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 One God for evermore. 
 
 May, 1865. 
 
ANNIVERSARIES. 
 
 "This shall be a Holy Convocation unto you." 
 
 ONCE more we meet, the days come round, 
 They move in ordered measure, 
 And summer suns fling all around 
 Rich beauty, choicest treasure : 
 Once more we meet and thank the Lord 
 For all the mercies on us poured, 
 True work and stainless pleasure, 
 
 We will not weary, night and day, 
 
 Our Master's taskwork doing ; 
 Our lips shall tell Thy love alway, 
 
 Men's hearts to answer wooing ; 
 By Thee in labour or in rest 
 May spirit, heart, and soul be blest, 
 
 The upward path pursuing. 
 
 Thou, Lord, didst love for children weak 
 
 To utter words of blessing, 
 And those who came with will to seek, 
 
 Went back in full possessing ; 
 And dear to Thee the voice of youth, 
 Unstained and walking in the Truth, 
 
 Thy grace and might confessing. 
 
ANNIVERSARIES. 195 
 
 Yea, Lord, Thou giv'st the power to praise, 
 
 Our lips and hearts unsealing, 
 Our poor and earth-bound souls dost raise, 
 
 Thy glorious work revealing : 
 Our spirits taught by Thee can rise 
 To height of angels' harmonies, 
 
 And glow with angels' feeling. 
 
 Do Thou then help us to abound, 
 
 Of all good gifts the Giver ; 
 Against the foes that hem us round 
 
 Send arrows from Thy quiver ; 
 Through rest and labour, weal or woe, 
 Let the heart's stream of rapture flow, 
 
 Like full and mighty river. 
 
 Then not in vain to life's last breath 
 Shall we in faith have striven ; 
 
 Glad sounds shall break the hush of death, 
 And tell of sins forgiven ; 
 
 And we the threefold Name shall praise, 
 
 And there before the throne upraise 
 The anthems clear of heaven. 
 
 June, 1866. 
 
 O 2 
 
HARVEST. 
 
 " He maketh peace in thy borders, and filleth thee with the finest of the 
 wheat." 
 
 L' 
 
 O, the weeks come once more ; 
 
 They bring their golden store ; 
 The quickening sunbeams flood the world with light ; 
 High in the evening skies, 
 Gladdening our wistful eyes, 
 Behold the moon of harvest, calmly bright. 
 
 O Lord of heaven and earth, 
 
 Giver of joy and mirth, 
 Open our lips to shew Thy wondrous praise ; 
 
 Feeble our hearts and cold, 
 
 We leave Thy Love untold ; 
 Oh, give us strength our joyous hymns to raise. 
 
 Whether we sow or reap, 
 
 Whether we toil or sleep, 
 Thou givest life and joy, and Thou alone ; 
 
 Grant Thou to each and all, 
 
 That, when the shadows fall, 
 We stand, true servants, round our Master's throne. 
 
HARVEST. 197 
 
 So our life's taskwork o'er, 
 Set free for evermore, 
 
 7e shall sit down at Thy great harvest feast ; 
 Reaper and sower met, 
 The sultry heat forget, 
 And taste God's love, the greatest as the least. 
 
 Nay, Lord, Thou too dost claim 
 
 The sower's mystic name, 
 Thou sendest forth Thy reapers to their task ; 
 
 Bless them that they may bear 
 
 The full corn in the ear ; 
 Give in Thy bounty more than all we ask. 
 
 Root out the evil tares, 
 Earth's vexing griefs and cares, 
 
 Bind the hot blasts that wither and destroy ; 
 And when the time is come 
 To bring the full sheaves home, 
 
 Bid men and angels share Thy harvest joy. 
 
 February, 1867. 
 
HOSPITALS. 
 
 " Himself took our infirmities and bare our sicknesses." 
 
 THINE arm, O Lord, in days of old, 
 Was strong to heal and save ; 
 It triumphed o'er disease and death, 
 
 O'er darkness and the grave ; 
 To Thee they went, the blind, the dumb, 
 
 The palsied and the lame ; 
 The leper with his tainted life, 
 The sick with fevered frame. 
 
 And lo ! Thy touch brought life and health, 
 
 Gave speech, and strength, and sight ; 
 And youth renewed and frenzy calmed 
 
 Owned Thee, the Lord of Light ; 
 And now, O Lord, be near to bless, 
 
 Almighty as of yore, 
 In crowded street, by restless couch, 
 
 As by Gennesareth's shore. 
 
HOSPITALS. 199 
 
 Though love and might no longer heal 
 
 By touch, or word, or look, 
 Though they who do Thy work must read 
 
 Thy laws in Nature's book, 
 Yet come to heal the sick man's soul, 
 
 Come, cleanse the leprous taint ; 
 Give joy and peace where all is strife, 
 
 And strength where all is faint. 
 
 Be Thou our great Deliverer still, 
 
 Thou Lord of life and death ; 
 Restore and quicken, soothe and bless, 
 
 With Thine almighty breath ; 
 To hands that work and eyes that see, 
 
 Give wisdom's heavenly lore, 
 That whole and sick, and weak and strong, 
 
 May praise Thee evermore. 
 
 AMEN. 
 
 June, 1867. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 LAZARUS. 
 I. 
 
 Note i, p. 3. 
 
 "And coming there, he asked 
 
 For one named Eleazar, " 
 
 The name Lazarus is the later Hellenised form of the old 
 Hebrew Eleazar. Between the two we have the transition stage 
 of Eleazarus. As the three forms appear to have co-existed, and 
 to be interchangeable (i Mace. viii. 17 ; 2 Mace. vi. 18 ; Jose- 
 phus, Wars of the Jews, v. 13, p. 7), I have thought myself free 
 to use both, as occasion might require, though not altogether at 
 random. 
 
 In placing the old age of Lazarus and his sisters at Marseilles, 
 I have followed a tradition of considerable antiquity, which the 
 English reader will find in Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints, St. 
 Mary Magdalene (July 22), and St. Martha (July 29). Out of 
 this tradition grew (i) the special reverence which the French 
 nation has always shown for the Madeleine, whom the popular 
 belief of the Western Church identified with the sister of Lazarus ; 
 and (2) the foundation of a Priory of Saint Lazare as the chief 
 church in Marseilles, which gave the name of Lazarists to the 
 devoted followers of Saint Vincent de Paul. (Butler's Lives oj 
 the Saints, July 19.) 
 
 Such a tradition has, of course, no historical authority, yet 
 
202 NOTES. 
 
 there is nothing startling or improbable in it. The position of 
 Lazarus, as one whose life was in danger (John xii. 10), would 
 naturally lead to his departure from Jerusalem ; and the inter- 
 course, first between that city and the great commercial cities of 
 Asia Minor, and then between these and Marseilles, was so con- 
 stant, that that would be as natural a route as any. In the time 
 of Pothinus and Irenseus even, the Gallican Church (French 
 would, of course, be a misnomer) was essentially Asiatic. 
 
 Note 2, p. 5. 
 " Jochanan, once of green Bethsaidd's hills" 
 
 Here, again, I have thought myself free to use the statelier 
 Hebrew form of the name of the Evangelist instead of the Greek 
 loannes, or our own clipt and monosyllabic John. A little later 
 on I have used the same license in substituting Miriam for Mary. 
 A special bond of friendship between the son of Zebedee and the 
 family of Bethany is apparent on the surface of the history. He 
 alone gives the narrative of Lazarus's resurrection. He alone, 
 himself the " disciple whom Jesus loved," tells us that his Master 
 "loved" also " Martha and her sister, and Lazarus" (Johnxi. 5). 
 The minute detail of narrative in chaps, xi. and xii. is obviously 
 that not of an eye-witness only, but of a friend, for whom every 
 minutest touch Mary rising hastily, as if going to her brother's 
 grave (xi. 31), Lazarus sitting at the table (xii. 2), the house 
 filled with the odour of the ointment (xii. 3) had a special and 
 personal interest. 
 
 Note 3, p. 8. 
 
 ' ' and gave me o'er, 
 
 To Polycarp, the shepherd of our flock" 
 
 Many readers will have already recognised that I have ventured 
 on reproducing the beautiful story, given " as no myth or legend, 
 
NOTES. 203 
 
 but in very deed a history," by Clement of Alexandria. (Quis 
 dives, c. 42.) The Bishop is not named by Clement, but the 
 conjecture that it was Poly carp of Smyrna is in itself probable 
 enough, and has met with a fair measure of acceptance. (J. C. 
 Means, in Smith's Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biographv, 
 art. "Polycarp.") 
 
 Note 4, p. 14. 
 
 "bowed 
 
 Yet more before my wealth,' 1 ' 1 
 
 The fact that the family of Bethany took its position among 
 the richer and more honourable class of the inhabitants, though 
 not expressly stated, is yet distinctly demonstrable. 
 
 (i.) Martha is cumbered about "much serving," the cares of 
 a large household (Luke x. 40) ; and the hoiise is "her own" 
 (x. 38), even though she has a brother living. 
 
 (2.) On the death 'of Lazarus, the Jews i. e., as St. John 
 always uses the word, the men of mark and influence in Judaea 
 came out to visit, not the two sisters only, but the kindred who 
 had gathered round them. (John xi. 19.) 
 
 (3.) The place of burial was a cave, natural, or hewn out of 
 the rock, like the sepulchre of Joseph, the "rich man" of 
 Arimathea (Matt, xxvii. 57), not a common burying- place. 
 
 (4.) The possession of the "pound of ointment of spikenard 
 very costly," priced at more than three hundred denarii (John 
 xii. 5), the whole year's wages of a labouring man (Matt. xx. 2), 
 implies that the luxuries and usages of the rich were familiar. 
 The complaint of Judas, that "it might have been sold" for that 
 sum, and given to the poor, shows that it was not bought for the 
 special purpose to which it was applied, but formed part of the 
 household stores. 
 
 Where facts, and the inferences from them, are so clear, it is 
 hardly necessary to give authorities. I will refer the reader who 
 may wish for them to Archbishop Trench, On the Miracles^ 
 c. 29. 
 
204 NOTES. 
 
 Note 5, p. 18. 
 
 " /, Lazarus, the rich, 
 The ruler, bowing at His feet who came 
 From Nazareth, the carpenter." 
 
 The identification of Lazarus of Bethany with the "young 
 ruler" who "had great possessions," which is the turning point 
 of the whole poem, may seem to many very strange and startling. 
 There is no traditional authority for it. I am not aware that any 
 commentator has conjectured it. It must stand or fall on its own 
 evidence. That evidence I submit to the judgment of the reader, 
 in the belief that, though entirely circumstantial and indirect, it 
 yet mounts up to a very high degree of probability ; that it rests, 
 to say the least, on infinitely stronger grounds than the current 
 popular identification of Mary Magdalene with " the woman 
 that was a sinner" (Luke vii. 37), or the wide-spread mediaeval 
 belief, that both were one and the same with Mary of Bethany ; 
 or the conjecture of many commentators, that the "young man 
 with the linen cloth cast about his naked body," who appeared 
 in the garden of Gethsemane (Mark xiv. 51), was St. Mark. 
 
 (i.) The total absence of all mention of Lazarus in the first 
 three Gospels is obviously a difficulty which may perhaps be ex- 
 plained, but which we cannot possibly ignore. But a further 
 comparison of the narratives of two of those Gospels with St. 
 John's, presents another like difficulty with regard to the sister of 
 Lazarus. They omit her name entirely, while they record fully 
 the very act which St. John narrates of her (Matt. xxvi. 6 ; Mark 
 xiv. 3 ; John xii. 3), and must have known who she was. By 
 them, however, she is mentioned only as "a certain woman." 
 It is a legitimate inference that there was the same reason for 
 silence in both cases. 
 
 (2. ) But the comparison suggests another question : If the 
 sister was not named, but the important act of her life mentioned 
 anonymously, might not the same mode of treatment have been 
 adopted by the same Evangelists as to the brother ? Is it not, at 
 
NOTES. 205 
 
 any rate, a natural inquiry to ask, whether there is any unnamed 
 
 character in their narratives corresponding, in any marked way, 
 
 to the Lazarus of St. John. 
 
 (3.) The next step is to indicate the points of correspondence 
 
 between the two whom I have ventured to identify. 
 
 (i.) The young man is "very rich," "has great posses- 
 sions," and the wealth of Lazarus has been already proved. 
 
 (2.) He is a " ruler," a member, z. e., of the ruling class, 
 probably of the Sanhedrim itself. We are not told this of 
 Lazarus ; but, as has been said, those who came to comfort 
 his sister were of that order, and they came as to an equal. 
 Among those who believed in consequence of the raising of 
 Lazarus were "many among the chief rulers." (John xi. 
 45 ; xii. 42. ) We can hardly doubt that Joseph of Arima- 
 thea was one of them, and he was "an honourable coun- 
 sellor." (Mark xv. 43.) So Nicodemus, also, a "ruler of 
 the Jews" (John iii. 2), takes part in the debates of the 
 Sanhedrim (John vii. 50), and speaks to Jesus, as the young 
 questioner speaks, as to a Rabbi. All this is, at least, pre- 
 sumptive evidence that Lazarus himself, also, was one of the 
 same body. The name Eleazar, we may add, was predomi- 
 nantly a priestly name. 
 
 (3.) He is "young," and this agrees with the fact that in 
 John xi. 5, the brother is named after the two sisters, that 
 in Luke x. 38 he is not named at all and the house spoken 
 of as Martha's ; and that in John xii. 2 he is not the giver of 
 the feast at which his sister waits, but is present as a guest. 
 
 (4.) He speaks to Jesus as "Master," i. e. as Rabbi, and 
 that is the received title which Mary and Martha give to Him 
 in speaking to each other (John xi. 28). 
 
 (5.) The question "What good thing shall I do that I 
 may inherit eternal life?" implies that of the two great 
 Jewish sects, the questioner belonged to that of the Pharisees, 
 and this also is the belief of Martha (John xi. 24). In both 
 also there is the same misconception of that "eternal life." 
 as something in the remote future. The very question with 
 
206 NOTES. 
 
 which he comes is precisely that which would grow out of 
 our Lord's words to Martha, as to the "good part" which 
 Mary had chosen. The brother, seeing in that "good part" 
 something to be done, some act of conspicuous devotion, 
 might naturally come with the inquiry, " What good thing 
 shall I do ?" 
 
 (6.) The spiritual condition of the young ruler and of 
 Martha is precisely the same. Each is hindered by the cares 
 of wealth : to each the same lesson is given in almost the 
 same words. To him, "One thing thou lackest" (Mark 
 x. 21 ) ; to her, "One thing is needful" (Luke x. 42). 
 
 (7.) St. Mark writing, according to the general belief of 
 the early Church and of many modern critics, from the lips 
 of St. Peter, records what may well cause our wonder, that 
 immediately after what sounds like a self-righteous boast, 
 " ' All these have I observed from my youth ;' Jesus, be- 
 holding him, loved him" (x. 20). That word, used so seldom 
 of the human affection of our Lord towards individual dis- 
 ciples, limited even among the Twelve to St. John, is used 
 by St. John himself, the constant companion of St. Peter, 
 of the family of Bethany, "Jesus loved Martha, and her 
 sister, and Lazarus" (xi. 5). Martha herself reminds Him 
 of His love (xi. 3). 
 
 (8.) Sad as the conclusion of the young ruler's contact 
 with the Truth may seem to be, there are even then some 
 gleams of hope. We cannot believe that one whom Jesus 
 "loved" would be left to perish without a prayer, or that 
 that prayer would not be answered. The words, " With 
 God all things are possible," suggest that some process to 
 free a soul so worthy of love from the evil that was killing it, 
 would yet be brought to bear on him through the wisdom 
 and the power of God. The condemnation of the boastful 
 pride of the disciples has in it something of the tone of pro- 
 phecy, " Many that are first shall be last ; and the last first" 
 (Mark x. 27, 31). Does not this thought of a great spiritual 
 miracle to be accomplished through the physical, give the 
 
NOTES. 207 
 
 truest and fullest meaning to our Lord's words on hearing of 
 the illness of Lazarus, " This sickness is not unto death, but 
 for the glory of God, that the Son of God might be glorified 
 thereby" (John xi. 4)? Do not the words, "Father, I 
 thank Thee that Thou hast heard me" (xi. 41), imply a 
 prayer such as the narrative of St. Mark irresistibly suggests ? 
 (9.) The hypothesis of this identity gives, it is believed, a 
 better explanation of the exceptional occurrence of a proper 
 name in the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus. If we 
 think of the brother of Martha or Mary as being present 
 among the richer Pharisees who were listening, or of them 
 as knowing him well, the choice of the name as indicating 
 that the beggar Lazarus was really more blessed than his 
 namesake, however rich and honoured he might be, receives 
 its full significance. Without this explanation, it is difficult 
 to account for this solitary departure from our Lord's usual 
 mode of teaching*. 
 
 (10.) On this assumption again, the mention by St. John 
 of one whom the other Gospels had not named has its coun- 
 terpart in the like treatment of Nicodemus, another "ruler." 
 The part taken by him could hardly have been unknown to 
 them, yet they never name him. They must have known 
 who the young rich ruler (/'. e., a member of the great 
 council) was ; yet, as of set purpose, they suppress his 
 name ; just as they must have known the name of the woman 
 in Matt. xxvi. 7, Mark xiv. 3, yet suppress that also. 
 
 (n.) The murmur of the disciples and the complaint of 
 Judas in John xii. 4, become more intelligible if we think of 
 the words, " Sell all that thou hast and give to the poor," 
 as having been spoken to the man who was then among the 
 givers of the feast. " Was not this," they seem to say, "a 
 contravention of an express command ?" 
 
 The inference from all these data is, I think, all but irresistible, 
 that the first three Evangelists, while deliberately passing over 
 all mention of the name of Lazarus, were yet led to drop hints 
 which were then intelligible to the initiated ; and out of which, 
 
208 NOTES. 
 
 in combination with the Fourth, it is now possible to construct, 
 approximately at least, a more complete history. It need hardly 
 be said that, in proportion as this is established, it furnishes the 
 apologist with an answer to objections from their silence against 
 the truth of St. John's narrative. 
 
 Note 6, p. 26. 
 
 "or must I die 
 
 The common death of all men ? " 
 
 The tradition is given, but without an authority, by Archbishop 
 Trench, On the Miracles, c. 29. 
 
 Note 7, p. 28. 
 
 * ' naked, poor, 
 
 Hunted, alone." 
 
 I once again venture on a conjecture, not as demonstrable, but 
 as far more probable, including and explaining far more phe- 
 nomena, than any other. St. Mark, and he alone (xiv. 51), 
 records the mysterious appearance on the night of the betrayal, 
 and in Gethsemane, of a "young man with a linen cloth cast 
 about his naked body." The young men, obviously those who 
 had come with the priests and their party, probably young 
 Levites, seize him ; he flies from them, leaving the linen cloth 
 in their hands. The following points have to be noticed : 
 
 (i.) The age agrees with that of the young ruler and of 
 Lazarus. 
 
 (2. ) The young man was one who continued to follow Christ 
 in close companionship when all the disciples had already for- 
 saken Him and fled (Mark xiv. 50). He is as one prepared at 
 last to take up his cross after Him. 
 
 (3.) He is one whom the officers of the priests eagerly seize 
 when they allow the escape of the Galilaean disciples, and 
 
NOTES. 209 
 
 Lazarus was the one man about whom such a command had 
 actually been given, whose life was eagerly sought after (John 
 xii. 9). 
 
 (4.) The "linen cloth" (sinddn) was one made of the fine 
 linen used by the wealthier class, as in Proverbs xxxi. 24; and 
 noticeably as a winding-sheet in the burial of the rich, as in our 
 Lord's entombment (Mark xv. 46 ; Matt, xxvii. 59). Such a 
 "sinddn" must have been among the grave-clothes so recently 
 used in the burial of Lazarus. 
 
 (5.) The nearness of Bethany to Gethsemane falls in with the 
 conjecture. One so apparelled could hardly have come with the 
 soldiers and the priests and officers from Jerusalem. He might 
 well have come over the slope of Olivet to the well-known 
 garden where Jesus resorted ofttimes with his disciples, roused, 
 it may be, by the sudden alarm of the ' ' lanterns, and torches, 
 and weapons," which broke the usually solemn silence of the 
 Paschal night. 
 
210 NOTES. 
 
 LAZARUS. 
 II. 
 
 I have ventured here on the outskirts of a great question, 
 one which our generation seems called upon to face, and which 
 needs to be faced truthfully and fearlessly. As yet we are 
 living in a warfare of half-truths. Noble and earnest words 
 have been spoken on both sides ; on both sides also, it must 
 be confessed, rash and railing and angry words ; but we look 
 almost in vain on either for even an approximation to a right 
 method of inquiry. Such an inquiry would include a much more 
 careful examination than we have yet had (i.) Of the varied 
 forms in which the nature and the duration of the punishments 
 of the future life are spoken of in Scripture, (2.) Of the belief 
 on these points then popular and current among the Jews and 
 heathens, and to which, as correcting or confirming it, our 
 Lord's words and those of His apostles, must necessarily have 
 referred. (3.) Of the interpretation given to those words by 
 the earliest Christian thought as shown in creeds and lituigies, 
 prayers for the dead, and nascent pui'gatorial theories. (4.) Of 
 the rise, progress, and influence, direct and indirect, of the 
 school of Origen. (5.) Of the development of the doctrine of 
 Purgatory in the Eastern and Western Churches. This, how- 
 ever, does but give the exegetical and historical elements of the 
 question. A disciple of Butler, a real seeker after truth, would 
 have to go further and to ask, (6.) What weight is thrown into 
 the scales by the broad facts of human experience ; what analogy, 
 
NOTES. 2JI 
 
 taken by itself would lead us to expect; (7.) What support it 
 gives, not taken by itself to the actual teaching of Scripture. 
 
 A discussion taking this range is obviously impossible here, 
 and I have given in the poem itself both the phases of thought 
 through which questioners naturally pass, and the conviction in 
 which they may legitimately rest. Unable to accept the bright 
 vision which fascinated the noble heart and intellect of Origen, 
 and was compatible with the higher orthodoxy of Gregory of 
 Nyssa, which in later times was faintly whispered, in one of 
 its forms, by Tillotson and Taylor, and developed with startling 
 boldness by Bishop Newton of Bristol ; unable to eliminate 
 from the word " eternal " (I include of course the Greek so ren- 
 dered) the idea of duration, or in this context to assign to the 
 duration any finite measure ; compelled to look upon the punish- 
 ment of all evil-doers, perhaps of all evil deeds, as in its very 
 nature and by necessary consequence, endless, I am yet com- 
 pelled also to look on the popular teaching as to the apportion- 
 ment and nature of the penalty of sin as miserably defective. It 
 is, I believe, to this defect, to an almost systematic exclusion of 
 the proportion of penalty to sin, to an equally systematic sub- 
 stitution of arbitrary and unrighteous standards of our own for 
 the perfect righteousness which the Judge has himself proclaimed, 
 that we may trace the violent reaction which nag led many, not 
 evil livers only, or infidel theorists, but profound thinkers, souls 
 that live in prayer, devoted pastors, to seek to escape from a 
 dogma which seems to them as much at variance, not with their 
 moral sense only, but with Scripture revelations of the character 
 of God, as the Calvinistic theory of reprobation. Truly appre- 
 hended, the doctrine of the Church Catholic, as held by the 
 Church of England, presents, I believe, no such antagonism 
 and those who shrink from the falsehood of extremes and can 
 call no man master, while they learn much from the combatants 
 on either side, may yet find surer guides in the teaching of those 
 who, if they had passions and strifes of their own, are yet 
 removed from ours. From them, from Justin and Clement, 
 the Alexandrian Clement, and Athanasius and Augustine and 
 
 P 2 
 
212 NOTES. 
 
 Jerome, in the earlier Church ; from Barrow and Butler and 
 Sherlock and Paley, in our own ; from the more reverential 
 theologians of Germany, Nitzsch and Stier and Miiller I have 
 learnt both to accept the words of Scripture in their simplest 
 and most natural meaning, and to find them in harmony with 
 the truest thoughts that man forms, with Scripture or without it, 
 of the righteousness of God. 
 
 Note i, p. 33. 
 ' ' On fair Pompeii down Vesevus 1 slope. " 
 
 The destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum took place in 
 A.D. 79, and the impression made by it must have been fresh in 
 men's minds at the time which I have chosen for the old age of 
 Lazarus. 
 
 Note 2, p. 44. 
 
 * ' One has told, I know, 
 
 Of torments lasting their appointed time" 
 
 The questioner might have learnt the hopes or fears that 
 afterwards expanded slowly into the Romish doctrine of Pur- 
 gatory from the books that had been to the Greek world as a 
 witness of the truth of the soul's immortality. In the beautiful 
 mythus with which the Phoedon of Plato ends (p. 113) Socrates 
 discourses thus ; 
 
 " When the dead have reached the place to which each man's 
 attendant genius (dtzmori) leads him, first they pass through their 
 trial, both those who have lived nobly or holily and justly, 
 and those who have lived otherwise. And those who appear to 
 have lived decently go to Acheron, and there, mounting on the 
 vehicles provided for them, arrive at the [Stygian] lake, and 
 there they dwell, and being cleansed, and paying the penalty of 
 their evil deeds, if any one has done evil, are released, and 
 receive the rewards of their good deeds according to each man's 
 
NOTES. 213 
 
 merit. But those who appear to be incurable, by reason of the 
 greatness of their sins, who have committed many and grievous 
 acts of sacrilege, or many murders foul and unnatural or the 
 like, these their fitting doom casts into Tartarus, and thence they 
 never come forth." 
 
 Some, he adds, who have committed great crimes, but "have 
 repented and led a different life," go into Tartarus also, but only 
 for a year. 
 
 The old speculation had, however, been recently revived in a 
 form more likely to give it currency. 
 
 " Quin et supremo cum lumine vita reliquit, 
 
 Non tamen omne malum miseris, nee funditus omnes 
 Corporeoe excedunt pestes ; penitusque necesse est 
 Multa diu concreta modis inolescere miris. 
 Ergo exercentur pcenis, veterumque malorum 
 Supplicia expendunt. Aliae panduntur inanes 
 Suspense ad ventos : aliis sub gurgite vasto 
 Infectum eluitur scelus, aut exuritur igni. 
 Quisque suos patimur Manes. Exinde per amplum 
 Mittimur Elysium, et pauci Iseta arva tenemus : 
 Donee longa dies, perfecto temporis orbe, 
 Concretam exemit labem, purumque reliquit 
 yEthereum sensum, atque aurai simplicis ignem." 
 
 Virg. JEn. vi. 735747. 
 
 The influence of Virgil on the growth of Christian theology, 
 familiar as we are with it in the culminating instance of the 
 Divina Commedia, has still, perhaps, to be adequately esti- 
 mated. 
 
214 NOTES. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF A GALATIAN CONVERT. 
 
 Note i, p. 54. 
 
 ' ' The beardless priests of Cybele would wave 
 Their wands, and clash their cymbals" 
 
 Galatia, like its neighbour Phrygia, was conspicuous for the 
 wild orgiastic worship here described. Atys, after whose ex- 
 ample the Galatian priests of the goddess devoted themselves to 
 a life indicated by their beardless faces, was said to have been 
 buried in Pessinus, the chief city of the province, and was 
 worshipped there with festivals and dances, with drums and 
 cymbals and trumpets. Of the frenzy which was thus produced, 
 and the acts to which it led, we have a picture of terrible vivid- 
 ness in the Atys of Catullus : 
 
 " Simul ite, sequimini 
 
 Phrygiam ad domum Cybelles, Phrygia ad nemora Dese, 
 Ubi cymbalum sonat vox, ubi tympana reboant, 
 Tibicen ubi canit Phryx curvo grave calamo, 
 Ubi capita Msenades vi jaciunt hederigerae, 
 Ubi sacra sancta acutis ululatibus agitant, 
 Ubi suevit ilia Divge volitare vaga cohors ; 
 Quo nos decet citatis celerare tripudiis." 19 26. 
 
 Such was the religion and the worship in which St. Paul's 
 Galatian converts had grown up, the only religion which they 
 knew till he came among them. 
 
NOTES. 215 
 
 Note 2, p. 62. 
 
 " At eventide^ 
 
 When the Jehus' Sabbath drew toward* its close 
 (So heard we from our teachers, for no loord 
 Bade us to ktep that Sabbath}.'" 
 
 I have assumed, with most students of early Christian ritual, 
 the celebration of the Lord's Supper on the first day of the 
 week, as in Acts xx. 7, and probably I Cor. xvi. 2. But then 
 it must be remembered that for those who had been trained, as 
 the framers of that ritual had been, in Jewish modes of reckon- 
 ing, the evening of Sunday would belong to the second, not the 
 first day ; and that the conditions of the case are only met by 
 supposing the celebration to have been fixed for every Saturday> 
 z. e., every Sabbath evening. Starting from this, it is interest- 
 ing to note that the older customs of the Synagogue presented 
 a point of contact with the new rite. There, also, as the Sab- 
 bath closed, bread was eaten, and wine was blessed and drunk 
 in honour of the declining day, as though it were a departing 
 king. (Jost, Judenthum, I. p. 180.) Here, also, we have 
 probably the true explanation of the transfer of the ideas of 
 holiness and rest from the seventh to the first day of the week. 
 The Lord's Supper, celebrated first at sunset, then at night, then 
 passing on through midnight to break of day (Acts xx. 7, and 
 Pliny's Letter to Trajan], gave its name to the Lord's Day. The 
 adjective, coined especially, it would seem, for the one, was 
 transferred to the other. And the day which had been so begun, 
 men were naturally anxious to honour, as far as their circum- 
 stances allowed them, to the end. That the Sabbath, as such, 
 was not enjoined, is obvious from St. Paul's reproof, "Ye ob- 
 serve days, and months, and times, and years " (Gal. iv. 10) ; 
 " Let no man judge you in respect of an holy day, or of the new 
 moon, or of the Sabbath days." (Col. ii. 16.) 
 
2l6 NOTES. 
 
 Note 3, p. 63. 
 " The mighty Maranatha smote the air." 
 
 Tills is not the place to discuss fully the nature of the 
 Pentecostal Gift of Tongues. It is, I believe, demonstrable 
 ( I .) That it did consist in a supernatural power of uttering words 
 and sentences in languages which the speaker was previously 
 unfamiliar with, and which at other times than those in which 
 the power was upon him he could not have spoken at all. (2.) 
 That it was not subject to the control of the understanding, and 
 hardly to that of the will, and therefore was not available, and 
 was, in fact, never used as an instrument of teaching. (3.) 
 That it chiefly showed itself in utterances of ecstatic elevation, 
 raising the worshipper above himself, and so building up his life, 
 though the listeners were not edified, and, if they were strangers, 
 might look on him as mad. As regards the two special points 
 to which I have given prominence here, some evidence may be 
 adduced within the limits which I must prescribe to myself. 
 
 (I.) As to the musical character of some, at least, of the 
 utterances of the tongues. 
 
 (i.) The analogies which present themselves to St. Paul's 
 mind when he speaks of them are pre-eminently those of 
 musical instruments, the pipe, the harp, the trumpet (i 
 Cor. xiv. 7, 8). 
 
 (2. ) In speaking of their exercise, the instance which first 
 occurs to him is that of "singing in the spirit" (i Cor. 
 xiv. 15). 
 
 (3.) Those who are "filled with the Spirit" (Eph. v. 
 19), as the disciples had been on the day of Pentecost 
 (Acts ii. 4), are bidden, as their special work, to "sing and 
 make melody in their hearts." 
 
 (4.) We can hardly help thinking of other words as 
 referring to the mode of utterance as well as to the words 
 spoken. "By the Spirit," says St. Paul, we "cry," not say, 
 " Abba, Father" (Gal. iv. 6; Rom. viii. 15); it "makes 
 
NOTES. 217 
 
 intercession for us," when we know not how to conceive 
 and utter our deepest wants, "with ineffable groanings" 
 (Rom. viii. 26). 
 
 (II.) As to the predominance of Hebrew in the utterance of 
 the tongues as they manifested themselves at Corinth, while 
 I cannot adopt the theory of the greatest Hebrew scholar that 
 the Puritans could boast of in the seventeenth century (Light- 
 foot, Harmony of Gospels, on Acts ii, ), that the gift consisted in 
 a revival of the true Hebrew of the Old Testament, there seems 
 distinct evidence that it often, and naturally in Greek Churches 
 chiefly, took this form. Thus 
 
 (i.) In the passages referred to, it is the Spirit which 
 leads the worshippers to the utterance of the new cry, so 
 strange to Roman, or Corinthian, or Galatian, of "Abba, 
 Father" (Rom. viii. 15 ; Gal. iv. 6). 
 
 (2.) Under a false, counterfeit inspiration, the fearful 
 cry had been in the assembly of the Church of Corinth, 
 "Jesus is Anathema" (i Cor. xii. 3). When St. Paul, in 
 contrast with this, gives his Anathema (i Cor. xvi. 22), 
 it is with the addition of the Aramaic word, ' ' Maranatha. " 
 The inference is almost irresistible, that that also had been 
 used both in the true and the false utterances. 
 
 (3.) The prominence of other Hebrew words, Sabaoth, 
 Hallelujah, Adonai, Hosanna, in Eastern and Western 
 Liturgies, is perhaps traceable to the same source. 
 
 Note 4, p. 64. 
 
 " converse grave 
 As though the Lord were listening." 
 
 The reader will remember Tertullian's words : "Ita fabulantur 
 ttt qui sciant Dominum audire." Apologia, c. 39. 
 
2l8 NOTES. 
 
 Note 5, p. 68. 
 
 " To Abraham and his seed, that seed being Christ, 
 (No Mediator there)." 
 
 It has been said, perhaps with some exaggeration, that there 
 are 430 different interpretations of the words of St. Paul, Gal. 
 iii. 19, 20. It will not be expected that I should examine them 
 here. 
 
 What seems to be the result of all attempts is this, 
 
 (i.) That St. Paul, when he wrote to the Galatians, was not 
 thinking or speaking, perhaps had not then learnt to think or 
 speak, of Christ as a Mediator, and did see one in Moses. 
 From the point of view of this Epistle, the promise was made 
 with no mediatorial interposition to Christ Himself as the seed 
 of Abraham, and to His people as identified with Him (comp. 
 iii. 16 and 29). 
 
 (2.) That any mediation did pro tanto interpose another 
 object between the direct intuition of the soul and the unity of 
 God. The same thought appears in J Cor. xv. 28. It is when 
 the mediatorial work is finished, and the office, as it were, sur- 
 rendered, that God will once more be "all in all," TO. iravra eV 
 iraaw. Rejecting all that was false in the Pantheistic system, 
 which denied the personality and the holiness of God, there was 
 yet a Christian Pantheism from which, here and in his address 
 to the Athenians (Acts xvii. 28), even the Apostle did not 
 shrink. Afterwards when, from another point of view, he spoke 
 of "the man Christ Jesus" as the "one mediator between God 
 and man," it was with a special emphatic assertion that that 
 character, rightly apprehended, did not obscure the truth of the 
 Divine Unity, " There is one God, and one mediator" (i Tim. 
 
 ii. 5)- 
 
 In the lines that follow I have endeavoured to bring out the 
 true meaning of the illustration in Gal. iii. 24. The total ob- 
 scuration of that meaning by the unhappy, yet perhaps inevitable, 
 choice of "schoolmaster" as the rendering for Trcutiaywybs, seemed 
 to make such an attempt desirable. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 2I 9 
 
 Note 6, p. 69. 
 "holding rank with those 
 
 Who setve the Goddess-mother at her shrines." 
 
 It will be seen that I have adopted what most critics of 
 repute * receive as the true rendering of Gal. v. 12, and have 
 followed Dr. Wordsworth's masterly and most interesting note 
 in pointing out the connexion between the rough, sarcastic word 
 and the local associations of the Epistle. The Galatians, in 
 their heathen state, had been accustomed to one form, and one 
 form only, of consecration to the priesthood of their goddess. 
 St. Paul's charge against the Judaising preachers of circumcision 
 is, that they are enslaving his converts to "elements" as "weak 
 and beggarly" as their old superstition had been (iv. 9). Was it 
 not natural that he should say, with that thought present to his 
 mind, that he half wished they would be consistent with them- 
 selves, and go back, outwardly as well as inwardly, to the level 
 of the heathenism which they were practically restoring? 
 
 * The agreement of Dean Alford, Dr. Wordsworth, and Mr. Jowett, may 
 fairly be allowed to make up an authoritatire consensus. Bishop Ellicott is, of 
 course, a weighty exception. 
 
220 NOTES. 
 
 JESUS BAR-ABBAS. 
 
 Note i, p. 70. 
 
 " To build his stately tower by Siloan? s pool, 
 Had seized our sacred Corban, " 
 
 The story of Pilate's wish to make his time of office memo- 
 rable by the construction of an aqueduct to supply Jerusalem 
 with water, of the readiness of the worldly high-priests to allow 
 him to use the treasure, or Corban, of the Temple, and of the 
 frenzy of the people on hearing it, is given by Josephus ( Wars of 
 the Jews, ii. 9, 4). The fact may probably be connected with 
 the feeling that the fall of the tower of Siloam was a judgment 
 on the labourers employed in it (Luke xiii. 4). Bar-Abbas, 
 too, we must remember, was more than a common robber. He 
 had been the leader in an insurrection (Mark xv. 7), and it was 
 one that had made him the hero and idol of the people. Chron- 
 ologically the tumult described by Josephus, and the "insur- 
 rection " mentioned by St. Mark, were probably identical. 
 
 Note 2, p. 71. 
 " The creed my Rabbi-father taught my youth." 
 
 The name Bar-Abbas, like Bar-jonah, Bar-timaeus, was 
 obviously only a patronymic,* and the name, or rather title, of 
 
 * It was recognised by Anastasius, Bishop of Antioch, as meaning Sia<r/caAow 
 vib, the son of a Rabbi. 
 
NOTES. 221 
 
 "Abba, father," was the most coveted among the distinctions 
 which the Rabbis prized (Matt, xxiii. 7). The inference is legiti- 
 mate enough, and is further interesting as accounting for the 
 eagerness of the Sanhedrim to save the life of Barabbas at the 
 cost of that of Christ. 
 
 Note 3, p. 73. 
 
 " 1 said my creed, 
 
 , Israel, hear, the Lord thy God is One." 1 " 
 
 The words of Deut. vi. 4, known from the Hebrew verb with 
 which they open as the Shema, were looked on as the Israelite's 
 passport to Paradise. It was against the blind confidence that 
 the repetition of the monotheistic formula which they embodied 
 could ensure salvation, and not against any development of 
 St. Paul's teaching that man is justified by faith, that St. James 
 entered his protest, "Thou believest that there is One God ; 
 thou doest well : the demons also " (the unclean spirits, who 
 acknowledged the power of that name when exorcised by it) 
 "believe and tremble" (James ii. 19). 
 
 Note 4, p. 75. 
 
 "That Galilean prisoner-king, and I, 
 Jesus Bar-Abbas.' 1 ' 
 
 This form of the name is known to have existed in MSS. 
 earlier than any which are now extant, which were old in the 
 time of Anastasius, Bishop of Antioch, circ. A.D. 560, and is 
 mentioned by Origen. Existing documentary evidence is, it 
 must be admitted, against it, but that does not go further back 
 than the fifth century ; and the suppression of the name Jesus 
 would be the natural result of the reverence which never suffered 
 a name that had been common among Jews to become common 
 among Christians. The reading in question has been adopted, 
 
222 NOTES. 
 
 on critical grounds, by Fritzsche and Meyer, and was received at 
 one time by Tischendorf. As has been said before, there must 
 have been some other name besides the patronymic. 
 
 Note 5, p. 79. 
 
 " But Dysmas, then some eighteen winters old, 
 Begged hard for mercy" 
 
 The name is taken from the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus, 
 c. x. ; the story from the Arabic collection of legends known as 
 the Gospel of the Infancy, c. xxiii. 
 
NOTES. 223 
 
 GOMER. 
 
 Note i, p. 87. 
 
 "And so I wooed thee, and thou didst not spurn 
 The prophet's offered love" 
 
 I follow Dr. Pusey (Minor Prophets, p. 8) and Ewald (Pro- 
 pheten, i. p. 126) in looking at the strange history of these 
 chapters as no parable or allegory, but the story of an actual 
 life, the education by which the prophet was led to apprehend 
 the mysteries of God's dealings with Israel. 
 
 In the absence of any data as to the previous life of Gomer, I 
 have assumed that here, as throughout the history of Israel, the 
 two sins of idolatry and sensual licence were closely intertwined. 
 The Ashtaroth worship in groves, which Jezebel had introduced 
 into the northern kingdom, had brought with it all the abomina- 
 tions of Phoenician worship ; and it would not be too much to 
 say that every harlot in Israel was probably a votary of the 
 goddess. Comp. Hosea iv. 13, 14. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE RECHABITES. 
 
 Note i, p. 102. 
 " We rode together, 7, the Kenite chief." 
 
 The connection of the clan or sect of the Rechabites with the 
 Kenites who had taken part in the conquest of Canaan under 
 Hobab, and who continued to live among the Canaanites, re- 
 taining their old nomadic life, is distinctly stated in I Chron. ii. 
 55 : " The Kenites that came of Hemath, the father of the house 
 of Rechab." 
 
 It is interesting from this point of view to think of the strange 
 union of zeal and dissimulation in Jonadab, as transmitted from 
 the great Kenite heroine, the wife of Heber. 
 
 Note 2, p. 103. 
 "A -whisper runs 
 
 (I know it) that some dreamer in his cell, 
 Wlio counts himself a prophet^ has condemned 
 That deed of vengeance." 
 
 This is, I think, hardly more than a legitimate inference from 
 the language of Hosea i. 4. He could say, in "the word of the 
 Lord," "I will avenge the blood of Jezreel upon the house of 
 Jehu," though Jehu had been the instrument of a righteous retri- 
 bution. He could hardly fail to have condemned also the false- 
 hood and the cruelty which mixed itself with his zeal in the 
 
NOTES. 225 
 
 slaughter of the Baal worshippers. And if this were so in the 
 time of Jeroboam the Second, it is probable enough that some 
 such testimony had been borne at an earlier period by some 
 member of the prophetic order to which Hosea belonged. 
 
 Note 3, p. 105. 
 " ' Sons of the chariot of our Israel's strength? " 
 
 The close resemblance between the name Rechab and Recked 
 (the " chariot"), applied to Elijah (2 Kings ii. 12) and Elisha 
 (2 Kings xiii. 14), suggests the thought that the name, " sons of 
 Rechab," was chosen rather than "sons of Jonadab," for the 
 sake of a paronomasia, such as the Hebrew mind always de- 
 lighted in. 
 
 Note 4, p. in. 
 
 " ' The son of Rechab shall not -want a man 
 To stand before my face for evermore. ' " 
 
 The word rendered " to stand before" is, with the addition 
 "before the Lord," all but essentially liturgical. It is used of 
 the Levites (Deut. x. 8 ; xviii. 5, 7), of the worship of the 
 Patriarchs (Gen. xix. 27), of the priests (i Kings viii. u ; 
 2 Chron. xxix. n ; Nehem. vii. 65), of prophets (i Kings 
 xviii. 15), of priests and Levites together (Ps. cxxxiv. i ; 
 cxxxv. 2). 
 
 Note 5, p. 112. 
 
 " And, when they bid us, in their mirth and pride. 
 Sing at their feasts the chief of Zioris songs" 
 
 The following data will justify this assumption : 
 
 (i.) If adopted into the tribe of Levi, the prominent work of 
 
 the Rechabites would be to take part in the minstrelsy of the 
 
 Temple. 
 
 Q 
 
226 NOTES. 
 
 (2.) The Latin rendering of the proper names in I Chron. ii. 
 55, as li canentes et resonances," indicates a Jewish tradition in 
 the time of Jerome, that the Rechabites were famous for their 
 musical skill. 
 
 (3. ) The heading of Ps. Ixxi. in the Septuagint version as com- 
 posed or sung "by the sons of Jonadab, the first that were 
 carried away captive," shows that the pressure of the captivity 
 fell heaviest on them. 
 
 (4. ) On their return from the captivity they are found in close 
 connection with the Netophathites (i Chron. ii. 54, 55); and in 
 the villages of the Netophathites dwelt " the sons of the singers" 
 (Xehem. xii. 28). 
 
 (5.) I venture to think that the fierce burning zeal which almost 
 startles us in this Psalm ("Happy shall he be that taketh thy 
 little ones and dasheth them against the stones") is more charac- 
 teristic of the Kenite than the Israelite Psalmists. 
 
 Note 6, p. 113. 
 
 " TJw u still shalt stand, and for thy people pray, 
 Thy grey hairs crowned -with glory. " 
 
 Compare 2 Mace. xiii. 14: "There appeared a man with 
 grey hairs, and exceeding glorious, who was of a wonderful and 
 excellent majesty. Then Onias answered and said, ' This is a 
 lover of the brethren, who prayeth much for the people and for 
 the Holy City, to wit. Jeremias, the prophet of God.' " 
 
NOTES. 227 
 
 THREE CUPS OF COLD WATER. 
 Note i, p. 128. 
 
 He who knew 
 
 The depths of Islam:' 
 
 Islam resignation, submission to the will of God was pro- 
 claimed by Mahomet as the one essential religion, which had 
 been inherited from the patriarchs, preached by the prophets, 
 and revived by himself as its new and greatest apostle. Comp. 
 Koran, ch. ii. & iii. (Sale's Translation] ; or ch. xci. & xcvii. 
 (Rodwell's). 
 
 "They who set their face with resignation Godward and do 
 what is right, their reward is with the Lord." 
 
 " When his Lord said to Abraham, ' Resign thyself to me,' he 
 said, ' I resign myself to the Lord of the Worlds.' " 
 
 ' ' And this to his children did Abraham bequeath, and Jacob 
 also, saying, ' O , my children ! truly God hath chosen a religion 
 for you ; so die not unless ye also be Muslims'" (sc., resigned). 
 (Rod well, xci.) 
 
 Note 2, p. 130. 
 
 " It passed into a proverb ' KdaVs deed 
 
 Of noble goodness : There is none like that: " 
 
 The story is given by Kallius in his notes to Rostgaard's trans- 
 lation of the collection of proverbs known as Arabum Philosophia 
 Popularis, p. 57- The current form of the proverb is that Arabs, 
 in speaking of any one whose nobleness they wish to praise, 
 describe him as "more generous than Ka'ab." See also Pocock, 
 Hist. Arab., p. 344. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 NOTES. 
 
 RIZPAH THE DAUGHTER OF AIAH. 
 
 Note i, p. 147. 
 " That song of the Bow re-echoed" 
 
 I follow some of the best critics in this interpretation of the 
 words, which stand in the authorised version as " Also he bade 
 them teach the children of Judah the use of the bow," 2 Sam. 
 i. 1 8. The words in italics are, as the italics show, an interpola- 
 tion, and they obscure the sense. What was meant was, that 
 the song of which the "bow of Jonathan" was the central point, 
 was that which David taught the children of Judah to sing. 
 
 Note 2, p. 151. 
 " The Urim's mysterious glow." 
 
 Out of the many conflicting conjectures as to the nature and 
 mode of use of the Urim and Thummim, I have chosen, not as 
 in itself most probable, but as fittest for employment here, the 
 tradition given by Epiphanius, that it was a diamond which, 
 according to the light which it shot forth, red, or clear, or dim, 
 indicated bloodshed, or prosperity, or disaster. 
 
NOTES. 229 
 
 THE SONG OF DEB&RAH. 
 
 Note i, p. 1 68. 
 
 " Then, at length, new chieftains they chose, as Gods to guide and 
 to save." 
 
 "They chose new gods." It can hardly, I think, admit of 
 question that the word Elohim here, as in Exod. xxi. 6 ; xxii. 9 ; 
 Ps. Ixxxii. I, 6, is used of the judges and rulers of Israel. The 
 whole order of thought is broken if we suppose Deborah to be 
 speaking of the lapse of the people into idolatry, not of the 
 revival of true life and energy, as subsequent to the time when 
 she "arose, a mother in Israel." 
 
 It seems worth while to submit to those who are conversant 
 with such matters, whether this frequent occurrence of the word 
 Elohim in its lower sense, in the earlier history of Israel, and the 
 consequent necessity which there must have been for the loftier 
 and more distinctive name, has had its due weight in the Elohistic 
 and Jehovistic controversies which have vexed us during the last 
 few years. Here, in a poem which bears in its minutest details 
 the stamp of the remote antiquity to which it is ascribed, the two 
 words are placed in direct antithesis with each other ; and this is 
 surely incompatible with any hypothesis which sees in the occur- 
 rence of the name Jehovah in any book, or portion of a book, a 
 proof that it originated after the influence of Samuel had changed 
 the religious nomenclature of the people. 
 
230 NOTES. 
 
 Note 2, p. 169. 
 
 "From the lips of those who rejoice at eve round the wells cool 
 and calm. " 
 
 The verse is not an easy one, but the literal rendering would, 
 I believe, run thus : " From the voice of those who divide" (but 
 uncertain whether they divide the spoil, as in Ps. Ixviii. 12, or 
 count their flocks) "between the places of drawing water." In 
 either case what is described is the joy of victory. 
 
 Note 3, p. 169. 
 
 " Lead forth thy conquered, thy captives, marching in triumph 
 along." 
 
 The phrase of "leading captivity captive" has become so 
 familiar to us in its rhetorical use, that we forget that the repe- 
 tition of a word from the same root does but emphasize the fact, 
 not that the conquerors are conquered, but that the captives are 
 taken. 
 
 Note 4, p. 1 70. 
 " True stock of the heroes of old who fighting with Amalek died." 
 
 Here again it will be best to give a literal prose rendering, 
 "From Ephraim, a root of them in (or against) Amalek." The 
 question is, what is meant by the last two words? By some 
 critics (Michaelis) they are referred to the battle with the 
 Amalekites in Exod. xvii. 8 16, in which Joshua, the leader of 
 Ephraim, commanded the army of Israel. This, however, seems 
 very improbable. Ewald, adopting the local meaning ("in 
 Amalek"), gives up all attempt at accounting for the limitation. 
 A comparison of one or two passages may perhaps explain it. 
 There was a district in the tribe of Ephraim known as the 
 Mount of the Amalekites (Judg. xii. 15), and so called probably 
 
NOTES. 231 
 
 as having once been conquered or occupied by them. The period 
 to which this may be referred is beyond question the time when 
 the Amalekites, in conjunction with the Moabites under Eglon, 
 conquered Jericho, and established themselves on the west side 
 of the Jordan (Judg. iii. 13, 14). There can be as little doubt 
 that the victory which dispossessed them, and to which Deborah 
 referred as still fresh in the memory of the people, was won when 
 Ehud " blew a trumpet in the mountain of Ephraim, and the 
 children of Israel went down with him from the mountain" 
 (Judg. iii. 27). It is surprising that a coincidence which lies so 
 near the surface should have escaped the notice of so acute a 
 writer as Ewald. 
 
 Note 5, p. 172. 
 " Kishon, the onward-rushing" 
 
 I follow Ewald in adopting this rather than "ancient" as the 
 true rendering. It is at once nearer -to the primitive meaning of 
 the root, and more in harmony with the context. 
 
 Note 6, p. 172. 
 " The word from the Prophet's lips came" 
 
 In the absence of any record of a visible appearance of an 
 angel, in the later sense of the term, it is allowable to take the 
 neutral word "messenger," as applied to a prophet of the Lord. 
 Perhaps, as in Malachi (ii. 7), it was used specially of a priestly 
 prophet. (Comp. also Eccles. v. 6.) 
 
 Note 7, p. 174. 
 " The costliest robes of tkeir pnests" 
 
 I have ventured on an interpolation here, but it is, I believe, 
 one which may be legitimately inferred from the context. The 
 mother of Sisera was expecting her son's army to return laden 
 
232 NOTES. 
 
 with spoil, especially from Ephraim. That spoil would have 
 included the plunder of the Tabernacle at Shiloh, and the richest 
 prizes there would have been the vestments of the priesthood, on 
 the embroidery of which, and (so far as we know) on that alone, 
 the skill and industry of the women of Israel were exercised. 
 The " broidered coat of gold, and blue, and scarlet, and purple, 
 and fine linen" (Exod. xxviii. 6), exactly answers to "the divers 
 colours of needlework" which the inmates of Sisera's harem were 
 expecting. 
 
NOTES. 233 
 
 THE EARLIEST CHRISTIAN HYMN. 
 
 Note i, p. 175. 
 
 There are no special points, it is believed, in this poem re- 
 quiring explanation, but it may be well to say a few words on the 
 Hymn itself. It occurs at the end of an Ethical Guide to Life 
 which Clement of Alexandria wrote under the title of the P<zda- 
 gdgus, or Tutor.* The central thought of the whole is that 
 Christ is the true Psedagogus, the guardian, teacher, friend ; and 
 this is worked out with every possible variety of illustration, and 
 applied to the details of daily life. At the end, after a prayer of 
 wonderful beauty, he burst out into a kind of choral, dithyrambic 
 ode, in anapaestic metre, the lines very short and abrupt, and the 
 whole being more exclamatory and fervid than most later hymns. 
 Its chief interest lies in its being almost the only surviving relic 
 of a class of hymns which would perhaps seem startling to us, but 
 which were the natural aftergrowth of the ecstatic doxologies, 
 the "spiritual songs," that formed part at least of the working 
 of the Gift of Tongues (comp. Nitzsch, Christliche Lehre, 
 ii. p. 268). 
 
 * Impossible as it is to express the exact idea in English, this word perhaps 
 comes nearer than any other. 
 
 *** It is right to state, that the substance of many of these 
 notes has already appeared in Dr. Smith's Dictionary of the 
 Bible, and is reproduced, in its present form, by Mr. Murray's 
 kind permission. 
 
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 FROM HALF-A-GUINEA TO SIXPENCE EACH. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, & WELSH, 
 
 (SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRIS), 
 WEST CORNER OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
 E. P. DUTTON AND CO., NEW YORK. 
 
 A 
 
 JOM. 11.84. ^. & S> 
 
NEW BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 THE REV. H. C. ADAMS' NEW BOOK. 
 
 The Mystery of Beechey Grange ; or, The 
 
 Missing Host. By the author of " Hair-breadth Escapes," 
 "Who did it?" " College Days at Oxford," &c. Well 
 Illustrated, crown Svo, cloth elegant, bevelled boards, gilt edges, 
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 " It is very well told . . . there is a great deal of moving incident and 
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 seen . " Scotsman . 
 
 STELLA AUSTIN'S NEW BOOK. 
 
 Two Stories of Two. By the author of "Stumps," 
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 An interesting and touching tale for children of all ages. 
 
 NEW BOOK BY MRS. R. M. BRAY. 
 
 Family Feats ; or, The Old Home. By the author 
 of "Ten of Them," "We Four," &c. W T ell illustrated. 
 Crown Svo, cloth elegant, price 2s. 6d. 
 
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 GETFFITH, FAEEAN, OKEDEX, AND WELSH, 
 
PUBLISHED BY GEIFFITH, FARRAN. OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 3 
 Vol. XXIV. of the Girls' Own Favourite Library. 
 
 Guide, Philosopher, and Friend. By Mrs. HER- 
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 Crown 8vo, cloth, price 3^. 6d. 
 
 " A story that girls will delight to read . . ."Scotsman. 
 " An agreeable and clever story . . . the plot is a good one." Academy. 
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 Vol. XXV. of the Girls' Own Favourite Library. 
 
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 " A tale, so elevated in tone, of such eloquent pathos, and written in so pure 
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 The Looking Glass for the Mind : an Intellec- 
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 much-admired work "L'Ami des Enfants." A Reprint of the 
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 made paper, the cuts printed on China paper and mounted in 
 the text, price 15^. 
 
 Reproductions of these works of art are too rare even in these times of fine 
 culture. 
 
 Mabel in Rhymeland ; or, Little Mabel's Journey 
 
 to Norwich, and her Wonderful Adventures with the Man in 
 the Moon and other Heroes and Heroines of Nursery Rhymes. 
 By EDWARD HOLLAND, C. C. S. Fully illustrated by A. CHASE- 
 MORE. Cloth elegant. Price Six Shillings. 
 
 An entertaining story based upon the old familiar nursery rhymes. Showing 
 that they are not entirely rhymes without reason. Simple enough for children, 
 and amusing for those who like to remember that they were children once. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHUECHYABD, LONDON. 
 
NEW BOOKS FOE THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Three Fairy Tales. By PAN. One volume. Demy 
 
 i6mo, cloth elegant, price is. 
 
 I. The Fairy of the Yellow Heart. 
 II. All Alive, O. 
 III. To bear and to forbear. 
 
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 The Rivals of the Cornfield. By the author of 
 
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 MISS E. C. PHILLIPS' NEW BOOK. 
 
 Grandfather. By the author of " Bunchy," " Punch," 
 
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 The Wild Horseman of the Pampas. By DAVID 
 
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 for lads who love Stories of Adventures." Scotsman. 
 
 The Boy Slave in Bokhara. By DAVID KER. 
 
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 "An amusing book which will please not only children . . The 
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 form." Christian World. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FABRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GRIFFITH, FABRAJT, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 
 
 Mamma s Bible Stories. Third Series. By M. L. M. 
 
 (daughter of Mrs. DANIEL WILSON, the author of the First and 
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 BERKELEY. Square i6mo, cloth boards, uniform with the 
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 Taking Tales for Cottage Homes. A series of 
 
 twenty-one books, well illustrated, printed in large type, crown 
 8vo, and bound in cloth elegant, price 6d. each. 
 't fie New Books in this Series are : 
 
 Little Betsey. By Mrs. E. RELTON. 
 
 Second Best. By S. T. CROSS. 
 
 Saturday Night. By F. BAYFORD HARRISON. 
 
 Louie White's Hop Picking. By Miss JENNER. 
 
 More additions to an already popular series. 
 
 Outlines of the Saints. St. Andrew, St. Thomas, 
 
 St. Stephen, and St. John, and the Holy Innocents. By the 
 author of ' ' Word Pictures, " &c. Imperial i6mo, cloth, price 6<t. 
 
 Ten New Christmas Carols for Children. 
 
 The Words by Mrs. HERNAMAN, and the Music by ALFRED 
 REDHEAD, composer of" The Story of the Cross," &c. 
 
 I. Jesus in the Manger. 
 II. The Birthday of Birthdays. 
 III. The Welcome Home. 
 IV. Carol to Jesus Sleeping. 
 
 V. The Lambs in the Field. 
 VI. Round about the Christmas Tree. 
 VII. Carol for the Children of Jesus. 
 VIII. Christmas Song. 
 IX. Old Father Christmas. 
 
 X. We'll Gather Round the Fire. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
6 NEW BOOKS FOE THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 The CHERRY SERIES of EIGHTEENPENNY BOOKS 
 
 PRESENTS AND PRIZES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 Thirty volumes, well illustrated, small 8vo, clearly printed on 
 good paper, and strongly bound in elegant cloth boards. 
 
 The New Volumes in this Series are: 
 
 The African Cruiser. By S. WHITCHURCH SADLER. 
 Aunt Mary's Bran Pie. By the author of " St. 
 
 Olave's. " 
 
 Parted. By N. D'ANVERS. 
 
 Starlight Stories. By F. LABLACHE. Illustrated 
 by KATE GREEN A WAY. 
 
 Sunnyland Stories. By the author of "Aunt Mary's 
 
 Bran Pie." 
 
 Tittle-Tattle, and other stories for children. By the 
 author of " Little Tales for Tiny Tots," &c. 
 For Complete List see page 20. 
 
 THE HAWTHORN SERIES OF SHILLING BOOKS. 
 
 PRESENTS AND PRIZES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 Thirty volumes, well illustrated, small 8vo, clearly printed on 
 
 good paper, and strongly bound in elegant cloth boards. 
 
 The NCT.V Volumes in this Series are : 
 
 Amy's Wish. A fairy tale by Mrs. GEORGE TYLEE. 
 Crib and Fly : or, The Story of Two Terriers. 
 Geoffrey's Great Fault. By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Neptune. The Autobiography of a Newfoundland 
 Dog. 
 
 The New Baby. By the author of " Gerty and 
 May," "Our White Violet,"' &c. 
 
 What became of Tommy. By EMILIA MARRYATT 
 
 NORRIS. Illustrated by JOHN ABSOLOX. 
 
 For Complete List see page 21. 
 
 GBIFFITH, FABBAN, OEEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GRIFFITH, FABEAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 
 
 BOOKS ARRANGED ACCORDING TO PRICES. 
 
 Ten Shillings and Sixpence, cloth elegant. 
 Child Life in Japan. By the late Mrs. CHAPLIN ATRTON. With 
 Illustrations drawn and engraved by Japanese artists. 
 
 Seven Shillings and Sixpence each, cloth elegant. Illustrated. 
 Alice's Wonderland Birthday Book. By E. STANLEY LEATHES and 
 
 C. E. W. HOLMES. 
 
 The Looking-Glass for the Mind. With Cuts by BEWICK. 
 Our Sketching Tour. By Two of the Artists. 
 The Young Buglers. By G. A. HENTY. 
 
 4/0 cloth, with Illustrations, price 6s. 6d. 
 Grandpapa's Verses and Pictures. By R. H. MOORE. 
 
 KINGSTON'S SERIES OF SIX SHILLING BOOKS. 
 
 Eleven Volumes, imperial 16mo, Illustrated by the Best Artists. 
 Cloth elegant, gilt edges. Each volume contains from 450 
 to 550 pages. 
 
 The Three Midshipmen. With 21 Illustrations by G. THOMAS 
 
 PORTCH, &c. Eleventh Thousand. 
 
 The Three Lieutenants : or, Naval life in the Nineteenth Century. 
 The Three Commanders ; or, Active Service Afloat in Modern Times. 
 The Three Admirals, and the Adventures of their Young Followers. 
 Hurricane Hurry ; or, The Adventures of a Naval Officer during 
 
 the American War of Independence. 
 
 The Missing Ship ; or, Notes from the Log of the Ouzel Galley. 
 Paddy Finn : The Adventures of an Irish Midshipman Ashore 
 
 and Afloat. 
 True Blue ; or, The Life and Adventures of a British Seaman of 
 
 the Old School. 
 Will Weatherhelm ; or, The Yarn of an Old Sailor about his Early 
 
 Life and Adventures. 
 "Won from the Waves ; or, The Story of Maiden May, with Sixteen 
 
 full-page Illustrations. 
 Middy and Ensign; or, The Jungle Station: A Tale of the Malay 
 
 Peninsula. By G. MANVILLE FENN, with Seventeen Illustra- 
 tions by H. PETHERICK. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
NEW BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Six Shillings each, cloth elegant, with Illustrations. 
 
 Children in Norway ; or Holiday on the Ekeberg. 
 
 Flyaway Fairies and Baby Blossoms. By L. CLARKSON. 
 
 Garden, The : coloured illustrations. 
 
 Golden Threads from an Ancient Loom. By LTDIA HANDS. 
 
 Journey to the Centre of the Earth. By JULES VERNE. 
 
 Mabel in Ehymeland. By EDWAKD HOLLAND. 
 
 The Bird and Insects' Post Office. By ROBERT 
 
 (Or paper boards, chromo sides, 3s. 6</.) 
 Little Loving Heart's Poem Book. By M. E. TUPPER. 
 
 Five Shillings each, cloth elegant. Illustrated ly eminent 
 Artists. 
 
 Belle's Pink Boots. By JOANNA H. MATTHEWS. Gilt edges. 
 
 Belton Scholarship (The) : a Chapter from the Life of George 
 Denton. By BERNARD HELDMANN, with Eight full-page Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 Cruising in Many Waters. By J. W. DORVILLE, Vice-Admiral. 
 
 The Day of "Wonders: A MEDLEY OF SENSE AND NONSENSE. By 
 M. SULLIYAN. 30 Illustrations by W. G. BROWNE. Gilt edges. 
 
 Extraordinary Nursery Rhymes ; New, yet Old. Translated from 
 the Original Jingle into Comic Verse by One who was once a 
 Child. 60 Illustrations. Small 4to. 
 
 Favourite Picture Book (The) and Nursery Companion. Com- 
 piled anew by UNCLE CHARLIE. With 450 Illustrations by 
 ABSOLON, ANELAT, BENNETT, BROWNE (PHIZ), SIR JOHN GILBERT, 
 T. LANDSEER, LEECH, PROUT, HARRISON WEIR, and others. 
 Medium 4to, cloth elegant (or coloured Illustrations, 10*. Qd.) 
 
 *,* This may also be had in Two Vols., cloth, price 3s., or coloured 
 Blustrations, 5s. ; also in Four parts, in paper boards, fancy 
 wrapper, price Is. each, or coloured Illustrations, 2s. each. 
 
 From May to Christmas at Thome Hill. By Mrs. D. P. SANDFORD, 
 
 L.P.S.A. 
 Merry Songs for Little Voices. Words by Mrs. BRODERIP. Music 
 
 by THOMAS MURBY. Fcap. 4to. 
 
 Nsrstone ; or, RIFTS IN THE CLOUDS. By M. E. HATTERSLEY. 
 Patranas, or SPANISH STORIES, LEGENDAKY AND TRADITIONAL. 
 
 By the Author of " Household Stories." 
 Kival Crusoes (The). By the late W. H. G. KINGSTON. (Or, 
 
 bevelled boards, gilt edges, price 6s.) 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GBIFFITH, FABBAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 
 
 Stories from the Old and New Testaments. By the Rev. B. H. 
 
 DRAPER. With 48 Engravings. 
 Trimmer's History of the Kobins, With 24 Illustrations by 
 
 HARRISON WEIR. Small 4to, gilt edges. 
 Wee Babies. By IDA WAUGH and AMY E. BLANCHARD. 
 
 Griffith, Farran & Co.'s Five Shilling Series of 5/- 
 
 TALES OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE. 
 
 Crown 8vo, well printed on good paper, fully illustrated by eminent 
 
 artists, and strongly bound in cloth elegant, bevelled boards, 
 
 gilt edges. Each volume contains from 300 to 400 pages of 
 
 solid reading. 
 From Cadet to Captain. A TALE OF MILITARY LIFE. By J. PERCY 
 
 GROVES. Illustrated by STANLEY BERKELEY. 
 Friends though Divided. A STORY OF THE CAVALIERS AND 
 
 ROUNDHEADS. By GEO. A. HENTY, with Eight full-page 
 
 Illustrations. 
 Hair-Breadth Escapes ; or, THE ADVENTURES OF THREE BOYS IN 
 
 SOUTH AFRICA. By Rev. H. C. ADAMS. 
 In Times of Peril : A TALE OF INDIA. By GEO. A. HENTY, with 
 
 Sixteen full-page Illustrations. 
 Mystery of Beechy Grange (The) ; or, THE MISSING HOST. B} the 
 
 Rev. H. C. ADAMS, author of " Hair -breadth Escapes," &c. 
 Who did it ? or, HOLMWOOD PRIORY. A Tale of School Life. By 
 
 the Rev. H. C. ADAMS. With Eight full-page Illustrations by 
 
 A. W. COOPER. 
 
 Four Shillings and Sixpence each, cloth elegant, with 
 Illustrations. 
 
 Casimir, the Little Exile. By CAROLINE PEACHEY. 
 
 Cornertown Chronicles. NEW LEGENDS OF OLD LORE WRITTEN 
 FOR THE YOUNG. By KATHLEEN KNOX. 
 
 Favourite Fables in Prose and Verse. With 24 beautiful Illus- 
 trations from Drawings by HARRISON WEIR. Small 4to. 
 
 Mandarin's Daughter (The) : A STORY OF THE GREAT TAEPING 
 REBELLION. By SAMUEL MOSSMAN. 
 
 Modern British Plutarch (The), or LIVES OF MEN DISTINGUISHED 
 
 IN THE RECENT HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY FOR THEIR TALENTS, 
 
 VIRTUES, AND ACHIEVEMENTS. By W. C. TAYLOR, LL.D. 
 Tales and Legends of Saxony and Lusatia. By W. WESTALL. 
 Zipporah, the Jewish Maiden. By M. E. BEWSHER. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHUROHYARD, LONDON. 
 
10 NEW BOOKS FOE THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE BOYS' OWN FAVOURITE LIBRARY. 
 Twenty-seven Volumes, price Three Shillings and Sixpence each. 
 
 Each volume contains from 300 to 450 pages of solid reading, 
 well illustrated by the best Artists. Crown 8vo. Cloth elegant. 
 
 Mark Seaworth. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Hurricane Hurry. By "W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Salt Water. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Out on the Pampas. By G. A. HENTY. 
 
 Peter the Whaler. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The Three Admirals. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Early Start ia Life. BY E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Fred Markham in Eussia. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 College Days at Oxford. By Rev. H. C. ADAMS. 
 
 The Young Francs-Tireurs. By G. A. HENTY. 
 
 The Three Midshipmen. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The Fiery Cross. By BARBARA HUTTON. - 
 
 Our Soldiers. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The Three Commanders. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The Three Lieutenants. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Manco, The Peruvian Chief. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Our Sailors. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 John Deane. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Travel, War, and Shipwreck. By Colonel PARKER GILLMORE. 
 
 Chums. By HARLEIGH SEVERNE. 
 
 African Wanderers. By Mrs. R. LEE. 
 
 Tales of the White Cockade. By BARBARA HUTTON. 
 
 The Missing Ship. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Will Weatherhelm. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 True Blue. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The North Pole, and How CHARLIE WILSON discovered it. 
 
 Harty the Wanderer. By FARLEIGH OWEN. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GRIFFITH, F ABE AN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 11 
 
 . 
 
 THE GIRLS' OWN FAVOURITE LIBRARY. 
 Twenty-five Volumes, price Three Shillings and Sixpence each. 3/6 
 
 Each volume contains from 300 to 400 pages of solid reading, 
 well illustrated by the best Artists. Crown Svo, cloth elegant. 
 
 Guide, Philosopher, and Friend. By Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN. 
 
 Her Title of Honour. By HOLME LEE. 
 
 Michaelmas Daisy. By SARAH DOUDNBT. 
 
 The New Girl. By Mrs. GELLIB. 
 
 The Oak Staircase. By M. and G. LEE. 
 
 For a Dream's Sake. By Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN. 
 
 My Mother's Diamonds. By MARIA J. GREER. 
 
 My Sister's Keeper. By LAURA M. LANE. 
 
 Sbiloh. By W. M. L. JAY. 
 
 Holden with the Cords. By W. L. M. JAY. 
 
 "Bonnie Lesley." By Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN. 
 
 Left Alone. By FRANCIS CARR. 
 
 Very Genteel. By the Author of " Mrs. Jerningham's Journal. 
 
 Gladys the Reaper. By ANNE BEALE. 
 
 Stephen the Schoolmaster. By Mrs. GELLIE (M. E. B.). 
 
 Isabel's Difficulties. By M. R. CAREY. 
 
 Court and Cottage. By Mrs. EMMA MARSHALL. 
 
 Eosamond Fane. By M. and C. LEE. 
 
 Simplicity and Fascination. By ANNE BEALE. 
 
 Millicent and Her Cousins. By the Hon. A. BETHELL. 
 
 Aunt Hetty's Will. By M. M. POLLARD. 
 
 Silver Linings. By Mrs. BRAY. 
 
 Theodora. By EMILIA MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Alda Graham. By EMILIA MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 A Wayside Posy. By FANNY LABLACHE. 
 
 ST. PATTL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
12 NEW BOOKS FOB THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Three Shillings and Sixpence each, cloth elegant, Illustrated. 
 
 Aunt Jenny's American Pets. By CATHERINE 0. HOPLEY, Author 
 of " Snakes : Curiosities and Wonders of Serpent Life," etc. 
 
 Bear King (The) : A Narrative confided to the Marines by JAMES 
 GREENWOOD. With Illustrations by ERNEST GRISET. Small 4to. 
 
 Berries and Blossoms : A Verse Book for Young People. By T 
 WESTWOOD. 
 
 Bible Illustrations, or A DESCRIPTION OP MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 
 PECULIAR TO THE EAST. By the Rev. B. H. DRAPER. 
 
 Bird and Insects' Post Office (The). By ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, Author 
 of "Rural Tales," etc. Illustrated with Thirty-five Wood 
 Engravings. Crown 4to, paper boards, with Chromo side (or 
 cloth elegant, 6s.). 
 
 British History Briefly Told (The), AND A DESCRIPTION OF THE 
 ANCIENT CUSTOMS, SPORTS, AND PASTIMES OF THE ENGLISH. 
 
 Brookdale, a Story. By Miss CHAMBERLAIN. 
 Castles and their Heroes. By BARBARA HUTTON. 
 Clement's Trial and Victory. By M. E. B. (Mrs. GELLIE). 
 
 Cosmorama : THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS OF THE 
 WORLD DESCRIBED. By J. ASPIN. 
 
 Crosspatch, the Cricket, and the Counterpane. By Mrs. BRODERIP. 
 
 Dot's Diary; or, Banished from Fairyland. With Frontispiece. 
 By J. FAED, R.S.A. 
 
 Every-day Life in Our Public Schools. Edited by CHAS. EYRE 
 PASCOE. 
 
 Facts to Correct Fancies, or SHORT NARRATIVES OF REMARKABLE 
 WOMEN. 
 
 Family Bible Newly Opened (The) ; WITH UNCLE GOODWIN'S 
 ACCOUNT OF rr. By JEFFREYS TAYLOR. Fcap. 8vo. 
 
 Feathers and Fairies. By the Hon. AUGUSTA BETHELL. 
 Flotsam and Jetsam. By H. WOTHEM. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GRIFFITH, FAEEAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 13 
 
 Three Shillings and Sixpence each continued. 
 
 Four Seasons (The) ; A Short Account of the Structure of Plants, 
 being Four Lectures written for the "Working Men s Institute, 
 Paris. With Illustrations. Imperial 16mo. 
 
 Garden (The), or FREDERICK'S MONTHLY INSTRUCTION FOR THE 
 MANAGEMENT AND FORMATION OF A FLOWER GARDEN. With 
 Illustrations hy SOWERBY. 
 
 Golden Curl, and other Fairy Tales. By F. A. E. A. 
 
 Heroes of History and Legend. Translated from the German of 
 A. W. GRUBE. By J. L. SHAD WELL. 
 
 History of the Robins (The). By Mrs. TRIMMER. In Words of 
 One Syllable. Edited by the Rev. CHARLES SWETE, M.A. 
 
 In Time of War. A Tale of Paris Life during the Siege and the 
 Rule of the Commune. By JAS. F. COBB, F.R.G.S. 
 
 Infant Amusements, or How TO MAKE A NURSERY HAPPY. With 
 Practical Hints on the Moral and Physical Training of Children. 
 By the late W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Joachim's Spectacles : A LEGEND OF FLORENTHAL. By M. & C. LEE. 
 Lee (Mrs.) Anecdotes of the Habits and Instincts of Animals, 
 
 ,, Anecdotes of the Habits and Instincts of Birds, Reptiles, 
 and Fishes. 
 
 ,, Adventures in Australia. 
 
 Lightsome and the Little Golden Lady. Written and Illustrated 
 with Twenty- four Engravings, by C. H. BENNETT. 
 
 Lily and Her Brothers. A true story. By C. E. L. 
 
 Little Margaret's Ride to the Isle of Wight ; or, THE WONDERFUL 
 ROCKING HORSE. By Mrs. FREDERICK BROWN. With Eight 
 Illustrations in chromo-lithography, by HELEN S. TATHAM. 
 Crown 4to. Cloth (or illuminated paper boards 1/6). 
 
 Little May's Friends. By ANNIE WHITTEM. (Or gilt edges, 4s.) 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
14 NEW BOOKS FOB THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Three Shillings and Sixpence each continued. 
 
 Mine The), or SUBTERRANEAN WONDERS. An Account of the Opera- 
 tions of the Miner and the Products of his Labours. 
 
 Madge and Her Chicks. By a BROTHER and SISTER. 
 Nimpo's Troubles; By OLIVE THORNE MILLER. 
 
 Nursery Times, or STORIES ABOUT THE LITTLE ONES. By an Old 
 NURSE. 
 
 Our Old Uncle's Home. By Mother CARET. 
 
 Sermons for Children. By A. DECOPPET. Translated by MARIE 
 TAYLOR. 
 
 Seven Birthdays (The) ) or THE CHILDREN OF FORTUNE. By 
 KATHLEEN KNOX. 
 
 Stories of Edward AND HIS LITTLE FRIENDS. 
 Taking Tales. In Plain Language and Large Type. Two vols. 
 May also be had in 4 vols, Is. 6d. each ; and 21 parts, 6d. each. 
 Talent in Tatters. By HOPE WRATTHE. 
 
 Talks about Plants, or EARLY LESSONS IN BOTANY. By Mrs. 
 LANKESTER. "With Six Coloured Plates, and numerous Wood 
 Engravings. 
 
 Talks about Science. By the late THOMAS DUNMAN. 
 
 The Triumphs of Steam, or STORIES FROM THE LIVES OF WATT, 
 ARKWRIGHT, AND STEPHENSON. 
 
 Two Stories of Two. By STELLA AUSTIN. Illustrated by 
 Miss S. F. BASEVT. 
 
 The Whispers of a Shell. By FRANCES FREELING BRODERIP. 
 "Wild Roses. By Mrs. BRODERIP. 
 
 Three Shillings. 
 
 Fruits of Enterprise, EXHIBITED IN THE TRAVELS OF BELZONI IN 
 EGYPT AND NUBIA, With Six Engravings by BIRKET FOSTER. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GBIFFITH, FAEBAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 15 
 
 THE -BUNCHY" SERIES OF HALF-CROWN BOOKS. 2/6 
 
 Crown %vo. Cloth elegant, bevelled boards, gilt edges, fully 
 Illustrated. 
 
 Bunchy ; or, The Children of Scarsbrook Farm. By E. C 
 
 PHILLIPS. 
 
 African Pets. By F. CLINTON PARRY. 
 Bryan and Katie. By ANNETTE LYSTER. 
 
 HARRY 'FURNISS. 
 
 Cast Adrift : the Story of a Waif. By Mrs. H. H. MARTIN. 
 Daring Voyage across the Atlantic. By the Brothers 
 
 ANDREWS. 
 
 Every Inch a King. By Mrs. J. WORTHINGTON BLISS. 
 Family Feats. By Mrs. R. M. BRAY. 
 A Gem of an Aunt. By Mrs. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 Gerty and May. By the Author of " Our White Violet/' 
 Grandfather. By E. C. PHILLIPS. 
 Great and Small. By Miss HARRIET POOLE. 
 Growing Up. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS. 
 Hilda and Her Doll. By E. C. PHILLIPS. 
 The House on the Bridge, and other Tales. By C. E. 
 
 BOWEN. 
 
 Nora's Trust. By Mrs. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 
 Punch. By E. C. PHILLIPS. 
 
 Ten of Them. By Mrs. R. M. BRAY. 
 
 " Those Unlucky Twins ! " By ANNETTE LYSTER. 
 
 Two Rose Trees. By Mrs. MINNIE DOUGLAS. 
 
 Ways and Tricks of Animals. By MARY HOOPER. 
 
 We Four. By Mrs. R. M. BRAY. 
 
 The following have plain edges : 
 
 Boy Slave in Bokhara. By DAVID KER. 
 Dolly, Dear ! By MARY E. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 On the Leads. By Mrs. A. A. STRANGE BUTSON. 
 St. Aubyn's Laddie. By E. C. PHILLIPS. 
 Wild Horseman of the Pampas. By DAVID KER. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
16 NEW BOOKS FOB THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Two Shillings and Sixpence each, Illustrated. 
 
 Boy's Own Toy Maker (The) : A Practical Illustrated Guide to the 
 useful employment of Leisure Hours. By E. LANDELLS, 200 
 Illustrations. 
 
 Choice Extracts from the Standard Authors. By the Editor of 
 " Poetry for the Young." 3 vols. 
 
 Christmas Pudding for Young Eaters. By L. C. SKEY. 
 
 The Cruise of Ulysses and His Men; or, Tales and Adventures 
 from the Odyssey, for Boys and Girls. By 0. M. BELL. With 
 Seven Illustrations by P. PRIOLO. Fcap. 8vo. 
 
 Flowers with Roots. Sermons. By Rev. J. CHOFTS. 
 
 Girl's Own Toy Maker (The), AND BOOK OF RECREATION. By E. 
 and A. LANDELLS. With 200 Illustrations. 
 
 Goody Two Shoes. A Reprint of the Original Edition, with 
 Introduction by CHAS. WELSH. 
 
 The Guests of Flowers : A Botanical Sketch. By Mrs. MEETKERKE. 
 With Prefatory Letter by Dr. THEODORE KERNER. Cloth, 
 email 4to. 
 
 The Guests at Home. A Sequel to the above. By the same 
 AUTHOR. Small 4to. 
 
 Holly Berries. By AMY E. BLANCHARD. Coloured illustrations 
 by IDA WAUGH. 4to boards. 
 
 Ice Maiden AND OTHER STORIES. By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 
 
 Little Child's Fable Book. Arranged Progressively in One, Two, 
 and Three Syllables. 16 Pages Illustrated. Cheap Edition. 
 
 Little Gipsy. By ELIE SAUYAGE. Cheaper Edition. 
 Little Pilgrim (The). Illustrated by HELEN PETRIB. 
 
 Model Yachts, .and Model Yacht Sailing : How TO BUILD, Rio 
 AND SAIL A SELF-ACTING MODEL YACHT. By JAS. E. WALTON, 
 V.M.Y.C. Fcap. 4to, with 58 Woodcuts. 
 
 My Own Dolly. By AMY BLAXCHARD and IDA WAUGH. 
 
 Old Friends in a New Dress. By R. SHARPE. 
 
 Science in the Nursery; or, Children's Toys. By T. W. ERLE. 
 
 Spring Time ; or, Words in Season. By SIDNEY Cox. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GRIFFITH, FARE AN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 17 
 
 Two Shillings and Sixpence plain, Super Royal 16mo, 
 
 cloth elegant, with Illustration* ly Harrison Weir 
 
 and others. 
 
 Animals and their Social Powers. By MARY TURNER-ANDREWES. 
 
 A Week by Themselves. By EMILIA MARRTAT NORRIS. 
 
 Funny Fables for Little Folks. 
 
 Granny's Story Box. With 20 Engravings. 
 
 Jack Frost and Betty Snow ; Tales for Wintry Nights and Rainy Days. 
 
 Madelon. By ESTHER CARR. 
 
 Odd Stories about Animals : told in Short and Easy Words. 
 
 Secret of Wrexford (The). By ESTHER CARR. 
 
 Snowed Up. By EMILIA MARRTAT NORRIS. 
 
 Tales from Catland. Dedicated to the Young Kittens of England. 
 
 Talking Bird (The). By M. and E. KIRBY. 
 
 Tiny Stories for Tiny Eeaders in Tiny Words. 
 
 Trottie's Story Book : True Tales in Short Words and Large Type. 
 
 Tuppy, or THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A DONKEY. 
 
 Wandering Blindfold, or A BOY'S TROUBLES. By MARY ALBERT. 
 
 COMICAL PICTURE BOOKS. 
 Two Shillings and Sixpence each, fancy hoards. 
 
 Adventures of the Pig Family, The. By ARTHUR S. GIKSON. 
 
 Sixteen pages Illustrations, oblong 4to, boards. 
 The March Hares and their friends. Uniform with the above. 
 
 By the same author. 
 
 The following have Coloured Plates. 
 
 English Struwelpeter (The) : or PRETTY STORIES AND FUNNY 
 PICTURES FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. After the celebrated German 
 Work of Dr. HEINRICH HOFFMANN. Thirtieth Edition. Twenty- 
 four pages of Illustrations (or mounted on linen, 5s.). 
 
 The Fools' Paradise. Mirth and Fun for Old and Young. 
 
 Funny Picture Book (The); or 25 FUNNY LITTLE LESSONS. A 
 free Translation from the German of " DER KLEINE ABO 
 SCHUTZE." 
 
 Loves of Tom Tucker and Little fio-Peep. Written and Illus- 
 trated by THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 Spectropia, or SURPRISING SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS, showing Ghosts 
 everywhere, and f any colour. By J. H. BROWN. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
18 
 
 NEW BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE HOLIDAY LIBEAEY. 
 
 A Series of 12 Volumes for Boys and Girls, well illustrated, and 
 bound in cloth, with elegant design printed in gold and colours, 
 gilt edges. The size is Foolscap 8vo, and as each volume 
 contains upwards of 300 pages of interesting tales of all 
 descriptions, they form one of the most attractive and saleable 
 series in the market. 
 
 Price Two Shillings, each volume containing Two Tales 
 well Illustrated. 
 
 LIST OF BOOKS IN THE SERIES. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 ( Sunny Days. 
 
 \ Wrecked, Not Lost. 
 
 (Discontented Children, 
 n. 4 Holidays among Moun- 
 
 ( tains. 
 
 , TT ( Adrift on the Sea. 
 UJ " { Hofer the Tyrolese. 
 TV ( Alice and Beatrice. 
 v 'f Julia Maitland. 
 v | Among the Brigands. 
 
 ' \ Hero of Brittany, 
 y-r i Cat and Dog. 
 VI - j Johnny Miller. 
 
 (Children of the Parson- 
 Vol. VnJ age. 
 ( r 
 
 vm. 
 
 .Grandmamma's Relics. 
 I Children's Picnic. 
 
 \ Holiday Tales. 
 Ix j Christian Elliott. 
 
 ' ( Stolen Cherries. 
 Y I Harry at School. 
 * I Claudine. 
 ~ T Our White Violet. 
 51 | Fickle Flora. 
 V TT ( William Tell. 
 X ' IL [ Paul Howard's Captivity. 
 
 Two Shillings, cloth elegant, Illustrated. 
 
 Children's Daily Help. Bevelled boards, gilt edges. (Or cloth 
 
 plain, Is. 6d) 
 Classics for the Million. Ey HENRY GREY. Cloth boards. (Or 
 
 paper covers, Is.) 
 How to Make Dolls' Furniture AND TO FURNISH A DOLL'S HOUSE. 
 
 With 70 lUustrations. Small 4to. 
 
 Illustrated Paper Model Maker. By E. LANDELLS. 
 Mamma's Bible Stories, FOB HER LITTLE BOYS 
 Mamma's Bible Stories. Second Series. 
 Mamma's Bible Stories. Third Series. 
 Only a Cat's Tale. By E. M. B. 
 
 Scenes of Animal Life and Character. FROM NATURE AND 
 RECOLLECTION. In Twenty Plates. By J. B. 4to, fancy boards. 
 
 Wonders of Home, in Eleven Stories (The). By GRANDFATHER 
 
 GREY. 
 Young Vocalist (The). Cloth boards. (Or paper, Is.) 
 
 In envelope. 
 AND GIRLS. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GRIFFITH, FAEBAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 19 
 
 Price One Shilling and Sixpence each. 
 
 Babies' Museum, The. By UNCLE CHARLIE. Paper boards. 
 
 Children's Daily Help. By E. G. (Onbevelled boards,gilt edges, 2/-) 
 
 Every-Day Things, or USEFUL KNOWLEDGE RESPECTING THE PRIN- 
 CIPAL ANIMAL, VEGETABLE, AND MINERAL SUBSTANCES IN 
 COMMON USE. 
 
 Little Lessons for Little Learners. By Mrs. BARWELL. 
 
 Little Margaret's Ride to the Isle of Wight ; or, THE WONDERFUL 
 ROCKING-HORSE. By Mrs. F. BROWN. Coloured Illustrations. 
 
 Our Wild Swan and other Pets. By HELEN WEBLEY PARRY, 
 Author of " An Epitome of Anglican Church History." With 
 coloured illustrations by HARRISON WEIR. Price Is. 6d. 
 
 Rivals of the Cornfield. By the author of " Genevieve's Story." 
 
 Taking Tales. In Plain Language and large Typo. Four vols. 
 May also be had in Two vols., 5s. 6d. each ; and in 21 parts, 
 cloth limp, price 6d. each. 
 
 Trimmer's (Mrs.) New Testament Lessons. With 40 Engravings. 
 
 ANGELO SERIES OF EIGHTEENPENNY BOOKS. 
 
 Square I6mo. Cloth elegant, fully Illustrated. 
 Angelo; or, THE PINE FOREST IN THE ALPS. By GERALDINB 
 
 E. JEWSBURY. 5th Thousand. 
 
 Aunt Annette's Stories to Ada. By ANNETTE A. SALAMAN. 
 Brave Nelly; or, WEAK HANDS AND A WILLING HEART. By 
 
 M. E. B. (Mrs. GELLIE). 5th Thousand. 
 Featherland; or, How THE BIRDS LIVED AT GREENLAWN. By 
 
 G. M. FENN. 4th Thousand. 
 Humble Life : A Tale of HUMBLE HOMES. By the Author of 
 
 "Gerty and May," &c. 
 Kingston's (W. H. G.) Child of the Wreck : or, THE Loss OP 
 
 THE ROYAL GEORGE. 
 
 Lee's (Mrs. R.) Playing at Settlers ; or, THE FAGGOT HOUSE. 
 Twelve Stories of the Sayings and Doings 
 
 of Animals. 
 
 Little Lisette, THE ORPHAN OF ALSACE. By M. E. B. (Mrs. GELLIE). 
 Live Toys ; or, ANECDOTES OF OUR FOUR-LEGGED AND OTHER PETS. 
 
 By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 Long Evenings ; or, STORIES FOR MY LITTLE FRIENDS. By EMILIA 
 
 MARRYAT. 
 Three Wishes (The). By Mrs. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
NEW BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 The CHERRY SERIES of EIGHTEENPENNY BOOKS 
 
 PRESENTS AND PRIZES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 They are all illustrated and attractively bound in cloth. 
 
 Adventures in Fanti-land. By Mrs. R. LEE. 
 
 African Cruiser (The). By S. WHITCHURCH SADLER. 
 
 Always Happy ; or, Anecdotes of Felix and his Sister. 
 
 Aunt Mary's Bran Pie. By the author of " St. Oiave's." 
 
 A Child's Influence. By LISA LOCKYER. 
 
 Battle and Victory. By C. E. BOWEN. 
 
 Constance and Nellie. By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Corner Cottage, and its Inmates. By FRANCES OSBORNE. 
 
 Distant Homes. By Mrs. J. E. AYLMER. 
 
 Father Time's Story Book. By KATHLEEN KNOX, 
 
 From Peasant to Prince. By Mrs. PIETZKER. 
 
 Good in Everything. By Mrs. BARWELL. 
 
 Granny's Wonderful Chair. By B. F. BROWNE. 
 
 Happy Holidays. By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Happy Home. By LADY LUSHINGTON. 
 
 The Heroic Wife. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Helen in Switzerland. By LADY LUSHINGTON. 
 
 Holidays Abroad ; or, Right at Last By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Lucy's Campaign. By M. & C. LEE. 
 
 Lost in the Jungle. By AUGUSTA MARRYAT. 
 
 Louisa Broadhurst. By A. MILNER. 
 
 My Grandmother's Budget. By Mrs. BRODERIP. 
 
 Our Birthdays. By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Our Home in the Marshland. By E. L. F. 
 
 Parted. By X. D'ANVERS. 
 
 Pictures of Girl Life. By C. A. HOWELL. 
 
 School Days in Paris. By M. S. LE JEUNE. 
 
 Starlight Stories. By FANNY LABLACHE. 
 
 Sunny land Stories. By the author of " St. Olaves."' 
 
 Tittle-Tattle : and other stories for Children. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FABEAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GEIFFITH, FABRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 21 
 
 THE HAWTHORN SERIES OF SHILLING BOOKS, 
 
 PRESENTS AND PRIZES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 They are all illustrated and attractively borind in cloth. 
 
 Adrift on the Sea. By E. M. NORRIS. 
 
 Alice and Beatrice. By GRANDMAMMA. 
 
 Among the Brigands. By C. E. BOWEN. 
 
 Amy's Wish : A Fairy Tale. By Mr. G. TYLER. 
 
 Cat and Dog ; or, Puss and the Captain. 
 
 Children of the Parsonage. By the author of " Gerty & May." 
 
 Children's Picnic (The). By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Christian Elliott ; or, Mrs. Danver's Prize. By L. N. COMYN. 
 
 Claudine ; or, Humility the Basis of all the Virtues. 
 
 Crib and Fly : the Story of Two Terriers. 
 
 The Discontented Children. By M. and E. KIRBY. 
 
 Fickle Flora and her Seaside Friends. By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Geoffrey's Great Fault. By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Grandmamma's Relics. By C. E. BOWEN. 
 
 Harry at School. A Story for Boys. By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 The Hero of Brittany ; or, The Story of Bertrand du Guesclin. 
 
 Hofer, the Tyrolese. By the Author of " William Tell." 
 
 Holiday Tales. By FLORENCE WILFORD. 
 
 Holidays among the Mountains. By M. BETHAM EDWARDS. 
 
 Johnny Miller. By FELIX WEISS. 
 
 Julia Maitland. By M. and E. KIRBY. 
 
 Neptune : The Autobiography of a Newfoundland Dog. 
 
 New Baby (The). By the author of " Our White Violet." 
 
 Our White Violet. By the author of "Gerty and May." 
 
 Paul Howard's Captivity. By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 The Stolen Cherries ; or, Tell the Truth at Once. 
 
 Sunny Days. By the author of " Our White Violet." 
 
 What became of Tommy. By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 William Tell, the Patriot of Switzerland. By FLORIAN. 
 
 Wrecked, not Lost. By the Hon. Mrs. DUNDAS. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHUECHTAED, LONDON. 
 
22 NEW BOOKS FOB THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 THE FAVOUEITE LIBEAEY. 
 
 Cloth elegant, with coloured frontispiece and title-page, 
 One Shilling each. 
 
 1. The Eskdale Herd Boy. BY LADY STODDABT. 
 
 2. Mrs. Leicester's School. BY CHARLES and MARY LAMB. 
 
 3. The History of the Robins. BY MRS. TRIMMER. 
 
 4. Memoir of Bob, the Spotted Terrier. 
 
 5. Keeper's Travels in Search of His Master. 
 
 6. The Scottish Orphans. BY LADY STODDART. 
 
 7. Never Wrong ; or, the Young Disputant ; & It was only in Fun. 
 
 8. The Life and Perambulations of a Mouse. 
 
 9. The Son of a Genius. BY MRS. HOFLAKD. 
 
 10. The Daughter of a Genius. BY MRS. HOFLAND. 
 
 11. Ellen, the Teacher. BY MRS. HOFLAND. 
 
 12. Theodore; or The Crusaders. BY MRS. HOFLAND. 
 
 13. Eight and Wrong. By the Author of " ALWAYS HAPPY." 
 
 14. Harry's Holiday. BY JEFFERYS TAYLOR. 
 
 15. Short Poems and Hymns for Children. 
 
 Price One Shilling each. 
 
 The Picturesque Primer. Paper Boards. 
 
 Fragments of Knowledge for Little Folk. Paper Boards. 
 
 Easy Beading for Little Beaders. Paper Boards. 
 
 The Nursery Companion. Paper Boards. 
 
 These Four Volumes contain about 450 pictures ; each one being 
 complete in itself, and bound in an attractive paper cover, in boards 
 (also with coloured Illustrations, 2s.) 
 
 The Four Volumes bound together form the " Favourite Picture Book," 
 bound in cloth, pi~ice 5s., or coloured Illustrations, gilt edges, 10s. 6d. 
 
 Australian Babes in the Wood (The) : a True Story told in Rhyme 
 
 for the Young. Price Is. boards, Is. 6d. cloth, gilt edges. 
 Babies' Museum (The) : OR RHYMES, JINGLES, AND DITTIES FOR 
 
 THE NURSERY. By UNCLE CHARLIE. Fully Illustrated, 
 
 or paper boards, Is. 6d. 
 
 Classics for the Million. By H. GREY. (Or bound in cloth, price 2s.) 
 Cowslip (The). Fully Illustrated cloth, Is. plain; Is. Sd. coloured. 
 Daisy (The). Fully Illustrated cloth, Is. plain ; Is. 6d. coloured. 
 Dame Partlett's Farm. AN ACCOUNT OF THE RICHES SHE OBTAINED 
 
 BY INDUSTRY, &c. Coloured Illustrations, sewed. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
GBIFFITH, FAEEAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 23 
 
 One Shilling each continued. 
 
 Fairy Gifts: OR A WALLET OF WONDERS. By KATHLEEN KNOX. 
 Illustrated by KATE GREENAWAY. Fancy boards. 
 
 Fairy Land. By the late THOMAS AND JANE HOOD. Fancy boards. 
 
 Female Christian Names, AND THEIR TEACHINGS. A Gift Book for 
 Girls. By MARY E. BROMFIELD. Gilt edges. 
 
 Gtolden Words for Children, FROM THE BOOK OF LIFE. In English, 
 French, and German. A set of Illuminated Cards in Packet. 
 Or bound in cloth interleaved, price 2s. 6d. gilt edges. 
 
 Goody Two Shoes : or THE HISTORY OF LITTLE MARGERY MEAN- 
 WELL IN RHYME. Fully Illustrated. 
 
 Hand Shadows, to be thrown upon the Wall. Novel and amusing 
 figures formed by the hand. By HENRY BURSILL. Two Series 
 in one. (Or coloured Illustrations, Is. 6e) 
 
 Nine Lives of a Cat (The) : a Tale of Wonder. Written and Illus- 
 trated by C. H. BENNETT. 24 Coloured Engravings, sewed. 
 
 Peter Piper. PRACTICAL PRINCIPLES OF PLAIN AND PERFECT PRO- 
 NUNCIATION. Coloured Illustrations, sewed. 
 
 Plaiting Pictures. A NOVEL PASTIME BY WHICH CHILDREN CAN 
 
 CONSTRUCT AND RECONSTRUCT PICTURES FOR THEMSELVES. Four 
 
 Series in Fancy Coloured Wrappers. Oblong 4to. 
 First Series. Juvenile Party Zoological Gardens The Gleaner. 
 Second Series. Birds' Pic-mc Cats' Concert Three Bears. 
 Third Series. Blind. Man's Buff Children in the Wood Sno-w Man* 
 Fourth Series. Grandfather's Birthday Gymnasium Play-room. 
 
 Primrose Pilgrimage (The) : a Woodland Story. By M. BETHAM 
 EDWARDS. Illustrated by MACQUOID. Sewed. 
 
 Rhymes and Pictures ABOUT BREAD, TEA, SUGAR, COTTON, COALS, 
 AND GOLD. By WILLIAM NEWMAN. Seventy -two Illustrations. 
 Price Is. plain; 2s. Qd. coloured. 
 
 * # * Each Subject may be had separately. 6d. plain ; Is. coloured. 
 
 Short and Simple Prayers, with Hymns for the Use of 
 
 Children. By the Author of " Mamma's Bible Stories." Cloth. 
 
 Short Stories for Children about Animals. In Words of One 
 
 Syllable. Fully Illustrated by HARRISON WEIR. 
 Stage in the Drawing Boom (The). By HENRY J. DAKIN. 
 Upside Down ; or, TURNOVER TRAITS. By THOMAS HOOD. 
 Whittington and his Cat. Coloured Illustrations, sewed. 
 
 Young Vocalist (The). A Collection of Twelve Songs, each with 
 an Accompaniment for the Pianoforte. By Mrs. MOUNSEY 
 BARTHOLOMEW. (Or bound in cloth, price 2s.; 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
24 
 
 NEW BOOKS FOE THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 Price $d. each, elegantly bound in Paper Boards, with 
 Covers in Chromo-lithography. 
 
 THE 
 
 TINY NATURAL HISTORY SERIES 
 
 OF STORY BOOKS ABOUT ANIMALS FOR LITTLE READERS. 
 ALL PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED BY THE BEST ARTISTS. 
 
 Especially adapted for School Prizes and Rewards. In one way 
 or another, the books either impart knowledge about Animals, 
 or inculcate the desirableness of treating them with kindness. 
 
 Little Nellie's Bird Cage. By Mrs. 
 R. LEE, Author of "The African 
 "Wanderers," &c. 
 
 The Tiny Menagerie, By Mrs. R. LEE, 
 Author of "The African Wan- 
 derers," &c. 
 
 The Dog Postman, By the Author of 
 
 " Odd Stories." 
 The Mischievous Monkey. By the 
 
 Author of "Odd Stories." 
 
 Lily's Letters from the Farm, By 
 MAKY HOOPER, Author of " Ways 
 and Tricks of Animals." 
 
 Our Dog Prin. By MARY HOOPER, 
 Author of "Ways and Tricks of 
 Animals." 
 
 Little Neddie's Menagerie. By Mrs. 
 R. LEE, Author of " The African 
 Wanderers," &c. 
 
 Frolicsome Frisk and his Friends* 
 By the Author of " Trottie's 
 Story Book." 
 
 Wise Birds and Clever Dogs, By the 
 Author of "Tuppy," "Tiny 
 Stories," &c. 
 
 Artful Pussy. By the Author of " Odd 
 
 Stories," &c. 
 The Pet Pony, By the Author of 
 
 ' Trottie's Story Book." 
 
 Bow Wow Bobby, By the Author of 
 " Tuppy," " Odd Stories," &c. 
 
 The above 12 vols. in Cardboard Box with Picture Top, price 9s. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH, 
 
N. B. Each Tale is Illustrated and complete in itself. 
 
 1. The Miller of Hillbrook : A RURAL TALE. 
 
 2. Tom Trueman : A SAILOR IN A MERCHANTMAN. 
 
 3. Michael Hale and His Family in Canada. 
 
 4. John Armstrong, THE SOLDIER. 
 
 5. Joseph Rudge, THE AUSTRALIAN SHEPHERD. 
 
 6. Life Underground; OR, DICK THE COLLIERY BOY. 
 
 7. Life on the Coast ; OR, THE LITTLE FISHER GIRL. 
 
 8. Adventures of Two Orphans in London. 
 
 9. Early Days on Board a Man-of-War. 
 
 10. Walter, the Foundling : A TALE OF OLDEN TIMES. 
 
 11. The Tenants of Sunny side Farm. 
 
 12. Holmwood: OR, THE NEW ZEALAND SETTLER. 
 
 13. A Bit of Fun, and what it cost. 
 
 14. Sweethearts : A TALE OP VILLAGE LIFE. 
 
 15. Helpful Sam. By M. A. B. 
 
 16. Little Pretty, By F. BAYFORD HARRISON. 
 
 17. A Wise Woman, By F. BAYFORD HARRISON. 
 
 18. Saturday Night, By F. BAYFORD HARRISON. 
 
 19. Second Best. By S. T. CROSS. 
 
 20. Little Betsy. By Mrs. E. KELTON. 
 
 21. Louie White's Hop-picking. By Miss JENNER. 
 
 N.B. The first Twelve parts may also be had in 4 vols. Is. Qd. each, 
 and 2 vols. 3s. (id. each. 
 
 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
 GRIFFITH, lABEAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 25 
 
 In 21 Parts, cloth limp, fancy binding, with Chromo on side. , 6d. 
 Price Gd. each. 
 
 TAKIS& TALES E03, COTTA&E HOMES- 
 
 Fully illustrated. 
 
26 NEW BOOKS FOB THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 OUR BOYS' LITTLE LIBRARY. 
 
 PICTURES AND READING FOR LITTLE FOLK. 
 
 A Series of Twelve elegant little volumes in Cloth extra, 
 tvith Picture on front, price, Qd. each. The 12 vols. 
 in a Box, price 6s. Every page is Illustrated. 
 
 They are especially suited for School Prizes and Rewards. 
 
 1. Papa's Pretty Gift Book. 7. Little Tommy's Story Book. 
 
 2. Mamma's Pretty Gift Book. 
 
 3. Neddy's Picture Story Book. 
 
 4. Stories for Play Time. 
 
 5. The Christmas Gift Book. 
 
 6. The Prize Picture Book. 
 
 8. Bright Picture Pages. 
 
 9. My Little Boy's Story Book. 
 
 10. What Santa Glaus gave me. 
 
 11. Tiny Stories for Tiny Boys. 
 
 12. Little Boy Blue's Picture 
 
 Book. 
 
 OUR GIRLS' LITTLE LIBRARY. 
 
 PICTURES AND READING FOR LITTLE FOLK. . 
 
 A Series of Twelve elegant little volumes in cloth, with 
 Picture on front, price d. each. The 12 vols. in 
 Box, price 6s. Every page is Illustrated. 
 
 They are especially suited for School Prizes and Rewards. 
 
 1. Nellie's Picture Stories. 7. Daisy's Picture Alhum. 
 
 2. Stories and Pictures for little 8. Wee-Wee Stories for Wee- 
 
 Trouhlesome. [Stories. Wee Girls. 
 
 3. Little Trotabout's Picture 9. May's Little Story Book. 
 
 4. Birdie's Scrap Book. 10. Gipsy's Favourite Com- 
 
 5. Stories for Little Curly Locks. panion. 
 
 6. Bright Pictures for Roguish 11. My Own Story Book. 
 
 Eyes. 12. Pretty Pet's Gift Book. 
 
 THE HOLLY SERIES OF SIXPENNY TOY BOOKS. 
 
 "With original designs by IDA WAUGH. Exquisitely printed in 
 bright colours, and issued in attractive and elegant covers. 
 Yerses by AMY BLANCHARD. Price 6d. each. 
 
 The following is a List of the Books in the Series. 
 
 1. Holly Gatherers. 
 
 2. Little May. 
 
 3. Horatio Hamilton Harris. 
 
 4. Our Boys. 
 
 5. The Christmas Carol. 
 
 6. Our Pussy Cat. 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEX, AND WELSH, 
 
GRIFFITH, FAERAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 27 
 
 POETRY FOR THE YOUNG. 
 
 A Graduated Collection in Four Parts. 
 
 Part I. . . 128 pp. ... 9d. I Part 111. ... 194 pp. , Is. 
 II. ... 176pp. ... Is. | IV. ... 166pp. ... 9d. 
 
 Part I. is recommended for the lower Standards ; Part II. for the 
 Higher ; Part III. as a Reading-Book (under the New Code) for 
 Standards V., VI., and VII. ; and Parts III. and IV. (which can 
 be procured in one volume) as Class-Books of Poetry for Candidates 
 and Pupil Teachers. 
 
 Poetry for the Young. The above Collection in 
 
 One Volume. Fully Illustrated. Crown 8vo, 645 pp., 
 handsomely bound, cloth, price 3-r. 6d. ; or in Roxburgh binding 
 for presentation, price 5^. 
 
 *** May also be had in Two Volumes, price 2s. each. 
 
 "We cannot too highly recommend the care, the discrimination,and the sound 
 taste that have presided over the selection of this volume of ' Poetry for the 
 Voting' " STANDARD. 
 
 "// is the first successful effort to produce a really well graduated book of 
 poetry for the young." SCHOOLMISTRESS. 
 
 POETICAL READERS FOR THE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED. 
 Adopted by the London School Board. 
 
 "Poetry for the Young," the most complete collection of high- 
 class Poetry in the English Language, has met with so favourable a 
 reception that we have brought it out in a form and at a price which 
 will place it within the reach of EVERY CHILD IN EVERY SCHOOL. 
 
 The choicest Poems in the collection have been selected for the 
 SEPARATE BOOKS for SEPARATE STANDARDS, and the utmost pains 
 have been taken to make the print, paper, and binding as perfect as 
 possible. 
 
 The Prices and Sizes of the Books are as follows : 
 
 Book I. for Standard I., 16pp. ... Id. 
 II. II., 32pp. ... 3d. 
 V IH. HI., 32pp. ... 2d. 
 
 Book IV. for Standard IV., 48pp. ... 3d. 
 V. V..48pp. ... 3d. 
 
 VI. VI.&Vn.,64pp. ... 4d. 
 
 In order to economise space, the texts only of the Poems 
 have been given ; but the teacher, who possesses the complete 
 work, either in one volume or in the four parts, will find every- 
 thing explained that can possibly need explanation. 
 
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28 NEW BOOKS FOE THE YOUNG PUBLISHED BY 
 
 NEW GEOGRAPHICAL READERS. 
 
 Specially compiled to meet the requirements of 
 Circular 228. 
 
 By J. R. BLAKISTON, M.A., 
 
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 Adopted by the School Boards for London, Leeds > Leicester > 
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 more one penetrates into them the more this becomes apparent. The author 
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 Illustrations are introduced here and there, and the maps are very well done 
 distinct, not crowded with names, but just sufficient to strike the attention of 
 the pupil.'" SCHOOLMASTER. 
 
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GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 
 
 29 
 
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30 EDUCATIONAL BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
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 A Dictionary of English History, chrono- 
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 consist of Four Volumes of about 150 or 160 pages each. The 
 object is to give a knowledge of general English History. 
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 the inconvenience of confining the lowest Standards to the 
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 Illustrated, and printed in conspicuous type. 
 
 Stories from English History. 145 pages, 
 
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GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN, AND WELSH. 
 
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 THE EDITOR OF "POETRY FOR THE YOUNG." 
 
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 Primer, Part I, 16 pages, 18 Lessons, 14 Illustrations, paper Id. 
 
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POPULAR SHILLING BOOKS 
 
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