But Pharaoh was strangely blind, and turning
From his first-born and his dead, with Egypt’s wail
Scarce still upon his ear, he asked which way had
Israel gone? They told him that they journeyed
Towards the mighty sea, and were encamped
Near Baalzephn.
Then Pharaoh said, “the wilderness will hem them in,
The mighty sea will roll its barriers in front,
And with my chariots and my warlike men
I’ll bring them back, or mete them out their graves.”
Then Pharaoh’s officers arose
And gathered up the armies of the king
And made his chariots ready for pursuit.
With proud escutcheons blazoned to the sun,
In his chariot of ivory, pearl and gold,
Pharaoh rolled out of Egypt; and with him
Rode his mighty men, their banners floating
On the breeze, their spears and armor glittering
In the morning light; and Israel saw,
With fainting hearts, their old oppressors on their
Track: then women wept in hopeless terror;
Children hid their faces in their mothers’ robes,
And strong men bowed their heads in agony and dread;
And then a bitter, angry murmur rose,—
“Were there no graves in Egypt, that thou hast
Brought us here to die?”
Then Moses lifted up his face, aglow
With earnest faith in God, and bade their fainting hearts
Be strong and they should his salvation see.
“Stand still,” said Moses to the fearful throng
Whose hearts were fainting in the wild, “Stand still.”
Ah, that was Moses’ word, but higher and greater
Came God’s watchword for the hour, and not for that
Alone, but all the coming hours of time.
“Speak ye unto the people and bid them
Forward go; stretch thy hand across the waters
And smite them with thy rod.” And Moses smote
The restless sea; the waves stood up in heaps,
Then lay as calm and still as lips that just
Had tasted death. The secret-loving sea
Laid bare her coral caves and iris-tinted
Floor; that wall of flood which lined the people’s
Way was God’s own wondrous masonry;
The signal pillar sent to guide them through the wild
Moved its dark shadow till it fronted Egypt’s
Camp, but hung in fiery splendor, a light
To Israel’s path. Madly rushed the hosts
Of Pharaoh upon the people’s track, when
The solemn truth broke on them—that God
For Israel fought. With cheeks in terror
Blenching, and eyes astart with fear, “let
Us flee,” they cried, “from Israel, for their God
Doth fight against us; he is battling on their side.”
They had trusted in their chariots, but now
That hope was vain; God had loosened every
Axle and unfastened every wheel, and each
Face did gather blackness and each heart stood still
With fear, as the livid lightnings glittered
And the thunder roared and muttered on the air,
And they saw the dreadful ruin that shuddered
O’er their heads, for the waves began to tremble
And the wall of flood to bend. Then arose
A cry of terror, baffled hate and hopeless dread,
A gurgling sound of horror, as “the waves
Came madly dashing, wildly crashing, seeking
Out their place again,” and the flower and pride
Of Egypt sank as lead within the sea
Till the waves threw back their corpses cold and stark
Upon the shore, and the song of Israel.
Triumph was the requiem of their foes.
Oh the grandeur of that triumph; up the cliffs
And down the valleys, o’er the dark and restless
Sea, rose the people’s shout of triumph, going
Up in praise to God, and the very air
Seemed joyous for the choral song of millions
Throbbed upon its viewless wings.
Then another song of triumph rose in accents
Soft and clear; “’twas the voice of Moses’ sister
Rising in the tide of song.” The warm blood
Of her childhood seemed dancing in her veins;
The roses of her girlhood were flushing
On her cheek, and her eyes flashed out the splendor
Of long departed days, for time itself seemed
Pausing, and she lived the past again; again
The Nile flowed by her; she was watching by the stream,
A little ark of rushes where her baby brother lay;
The tender tide of rapture swept o’er her soul again
She had felt when Pharaoh’s daughter had claimed
Him as her own, and her mother wept for joy
Above her rescued son. Then again she saw
Him choosing “’twixt Israel’s pain and sorrow
And Egypt’s pomp and pride.” But now he stood
Their leader triumphant on that shore, and loud
She struck the cymbals as she led the Hebrew women
In music, dance and song, as they shouted out
Triumphs in sweet and glad refrains.
MIRIAM’S SONG.
A wail in the palace, a wail in the hut,
The midnight is shivering with dread,
And Egypt wakes up with a shriek and a sob
To mourn for her first-born and dead.
In the morning glad voices greeted the light,
As the Nile with its splendor was flushed;
At midnight silence had melted their tones,
And their music forever is hushed.
In the morning the princes of palace and court
To the heir of the kingdom bowed down;
’Tis midnight, pallid and stark in his shroud
He dreams not of kingdom or crown.
As a monument blasted and blighted by God,
Through the ages proud Pharaoh shall stand,
All seamed with the vengeance and scarred with the wrath
That leaped from God’s terrible hand.
Chapter VII.
They journeyed on from Zuphim’s sea until
They reached the sacred mount and heard the solemn
Decalogue. The mount was robed in blackness,—
Heavy and deep the shadows lay; the thunder
Crashed and roared upon the air; the lightning
Leaped from crag to crag; God’s fearful splendor
Flowed around, and Sinai quaked and shuddered
To its base, and there did God proclaim
Unto their listening ears, the great, the grand,
The central and the primal truth of all
The universe—the unity of God.
Only one God,—
This truth received into the world’s great life,
Not as an idle dream nor a speculative thing,
But as a living, vitalizing thought,
Should bind us closer to our God and link us
With our fellow man, the brothers and co-heirs
With Christ, the elder brother of our race.
Before this truth let every blade of war
Grow dull, and slavery, cowering at the light,
Skulk from the homes of men; instead
Of war bring peace and freedom, love and joy,
And light for man, instead of bondage, whips
And chains. Only one God! the strongest hands
Should help the weak who bend before the blasts
Of life, because if God is only one
Then we are the children of his mighty hand,
And when we best serve man, we also serve
Our God. Let haughty rulers learn that men
Of humblest birth and lowliest lot have
Rights as sacred and divine as theirs, and they
Who fence in leagues of earth by bonds and claims
And title deeds, forgetting land and water,
Air and light are God’s own gifts and heritage
For man—who throw their selfish lives between
God’s sunshine and the shivering poor—
Have never learned the wondrous depth, nor scaled
The glorious height of this great central truth,
Around which clusters all the holiest faiths
Of earth. The thunder died upon the air,
The lightning ceased its livid play, the smoke
And darkness died away in clouds, as soft
And fair as summer wreaths that lie around
The setting sun, and Sinai stood a bare
And rugged thing among the sacred scenes
Of earth.
Chapter VIII.
It was a weary thing to bear the burden
Of that restless and rebellious race. With
Sinai’s thunders almost crashing in their ears,
They made a golden calf, and in the desert
Spread an idol’s feast, and sung the merry songs
They had heard when Mizraim’s songs bowed down before
Their vain and heathen gods; and thus for many years
Did Moses bear the evil manners of his race—
Their angry murmurs, fierce regrets and strange
Forgetfulness of God. Born slaves, they did not love
The freedom of the wild more than their pots of flesh.
And pleasant savory things once gathered
From the gardens of the Nile.
If slavery only laid its weight of chains
Upon the weary, aching limbs, e’en then
It were a curse; but when it frets through nerve
And flesh and eats into the weary soul,
Oh then it is a thing for every human
Heart to loathe, and this was Israel’s fate,
For when the chains were shaken from their limbs
They failed to strike the impress from their souls
While he who’d basked beneath the radiance
Of a throne, ne’er turned regretful eyes upon
The past, nor sighed to grasp again the pleasures
Once resigned; but the saddest trial was
To see the light and joy fade from their faces
When the faithless spies spread through their camp
Their ill report; and when the people wept
In hopeless unbelief and turned their faces
Egyptward, and asked a captain from their bands
To lead them back where they might bind anew
Their broken chains, when God arose and shut
The gates of promise on their lives, and left
Their bones to bleach beneath Arabia’s desert sands
But though they slumbered in the wild, they died
With broader freedom on their lips, and for their
Little ones did God reserve the heritage
So rudely thrust aside.
THE DEATH OF MOSES.—Chapter IX.
His work was done; his blessing lay
Like precious ointment on his people’s head,
And God’s great peace was resting on his soul.
His life had been a lengthened sacrifice,
A thing of deep devotion to his race,
Since first he turned his eyes on Egypt’s gild
And glow, and clasped their fortunes in his hand
And held them with a firm and constant grasp.
But now his work was done; his charge was laid
In Joshua’s hand, and men of younger blood
Were destined to possess the land and pass
Through Jordan to the other side. He too
Had hoped to enter there—to tread the soil
Made sacred by the memories of his
Kindred dead, and rest till life’s calm close beneath
The sheltering vines and stately palms of that
Fair land; that hope had colored all his life’s
Young dreams and sent its mellowed flushes o’er
His later years; but God’s decree was otherwise.
And so he bowed his meekened soul in calm
Submission to the word, which bade him climb
To Nebo’s highest peak, and view the pleasant land
From Jordan’s swells unto the calmer ripples
Of the tideless sea, then die with all its
Loveliness in sight.
As he passed from Moab’s grassy vale to climb
The rugged mount, the people stood in mournful groups,
Some, with quivering lips and tearful eyes,
Reaching out unconscious hands, as if to stay
His steps and keep him ever at their side, while
Others gazed with reverent awe upon
The calm and solemn beauty on his aged brow,
The look of loving trust and lofty faith
Still beaming from an eye that neither care
Nor time had dimmed. As he passed upward, tender
Blessings, earnest prayers and sad farewells rose
On each wave of air, then died in one sweet
Murmur of regretful love; and Moses stood
Alone on Nebo’s mount.
Alone! not one
Of all that mighty throng who had trod with him
In triumph through the parted flood was there.
Aaron had died in Hor, with son and brother
By his side; and Miriam too was gone.
But kindred hands had made her grave, and Kadesh
Held her dust. But he was all alone; nor wife
Nor child was there to clasp in death his hand,
And bind around their bleeding hearts the precious
Parting words. And yet he was not all alone,
For God’s great presence flowed around his path
And stayed him in that solemn hour.
He stood upon the highest peak of Nebo,
And saw the Jordan chafing through its gorges,
Its banks made bright by scarlet blooms
And purple blossoms. The placid lakes
And emerald meadows, the snowy crest
Of distant mountains, the ancient rocks
That dripped with honey, the hills all bathed
In light and beauty; the shady groves
And peaceful vistas, the vines opprest
With purple riches, the fig trees fruit-crowned
Green and golden, the pomegranates with crimson
Blushes, the olives with their darker clusters,
Rose before him like a vision, full of beauty
And delight. Gazed he on the lovely landscape
Till it faded from his view, and the wing
Of death’s sweet angel hovered o’er the mountain’s
Crest, and he heard his garments rustle through
The watches of the night.
Then another, fairer, vision
Broke upon his longing gaze; ’twas the land
Of crystal fountains, love and beauty, joy
And light, for the pearly gates flew open,
And his ransomed soul went in. And when morning
O’er the mountain fringed each crag and peak with light,
Cold and lifeless lay the leader. God had touched
His eyes with slumber, giving his beloved sleep.
Oh never on that mountain
Was seen a lovelier sight
Than the troupe of fair young angels
That gathered ’round the dead.
With gentle hands they bore him
That bright and shining train,
From Nebo’s lonely mountain
To sleep in Moab’s vale.
But they sung no mournful dirges
No solemn requiems said,
And the soft wave of their pinions
Made music as they trod.
But no one heard them passing,
None saw their chosen grave;
It was the angels secret
Where Moses should be laid.
And when the grave was finished
They trod with golden sandals
Above the sacred spot,
And the brightest, fairest flowers
Sprang up beneath their tread.
Nor broken turf, nor hillock
Did e’er reveal that grave,
And truthful lips have never said
We know where he is laid.