Yet the beat of every heart was still,
And the flesh crawl'd fearfully and chill,
And back flow'd every vein.

The courage of Israel's bravest quail'd
At the view of that awful light,

Though knowing the blood of their offering avail'd
To shield them from its might:

They felt 'twas the Spirit of Death had past,

That the brightness they saw his cold glance had cast On Egypt's land that night:

That his fearful eye had unwarn'd struck down,
In the darkness of the grave,

The hope of that empire, the pride of its crown,
The first-born of lord and slave:-

The lovely, the tender, the ardent, the gay,
Where were they?-all wither'd in ashes
At the terrible death-glare it gave.

away,

From the couches of slumber ten thousand cries

Burst forth 'mid the silence dread

The youth by his living brother lies
Sightless, and dumb, and dead!

The infant lies cold at its mother's breast,
She had kiss'd him alive as she sank to rest,

She awakens-his life hath fled!

And shrieks from the palace-chambers break—
Their inmates are steep'd in woe,

And Pharaoh hath found his proud arm too weak
To arrest the mighty blow:

Wail, King of the Pyramids! Egypt's throne
Cannot lighten thy heart of a single groan,
For thy kingdom's heir laid low.

Wail, King of the Pyramids! Death has cast
His shafts through thine empire wide,
But o'er Israel in bondage his rage has past,

No first-born of her's hath died

Go, Satrap! command that the captive be free,

Lest their God in fierce anger should smite even thee, On the crown of thy purple pride.

DIRGE OF RACHEL.

GENESIS, CHAP. XXXV.

AND Rachel lies in Eprath's land,

Beneath her lonely oak of weeping;

With mouldering heart, and withering hand,
The sleep of death for ever sleeping.

ANON.

The spring comes smiling down the vale,
The lilies and the roses bringing;

But Rachel never more shall hail

The flowers that in the world are springing.

The Summer gives his radiant day,

And Jewish dames the dance are treading;

But Rachel on her couch of clay,
Sleeps all unheeded and unheeding.

The Autumn's ripening sunbeam shines,
And reapers to the field is calling;
But Rachel's voice no longer joins
The choral song at twilight's falling.

The Winter sends his drenching shower,
And sweeps his howling blast around her;
But earthly storms possess no power

To break the slumber that hath bound her.

KNOX.

SIX SONGS FROM THE BOOK OF

RUTH.

THE SONG OF RUTH TO NAOMI.

RUTH, CHAP. I.

I WILL not leave thee, Mother, now that grief Strikes with a heavy hand thy widowed heart; The blooming flower shuns not the blighted leaf, Shall I, then, from thy woe-worn spirit part? For thee, will I forsake my native land,

Where every tie hath bound me heretofore, With thee, I'll wend to Israel, hand in hand, Thy kindred I will claim, thy God adore!

Where thou dost pillow, there my head shall lie; E'en as the dove doth seek its mother's nest, So, where thou layest thine aged form to die, There too will I take up eternal rest.

For that, I now from kinsmen turn away,

And leave their idols, they will curse me sore; This last sad look their years of love shall pay— THY Country I will claim,—thy GoD adore!

SONG OF THE GLEANERS.

CHAP. II.

PRAISE the Lord for his bounty! while nations around,
Are groaning with famine, our garners abound!
The heathen who setteth up gods of his own,

In vain seeks to reap when he lately hath sown ;
Unblest by the Lord, he can harvest no more
Than we glean, when the work of the reaper is o'er.
Praise the Lord for his bounty! while nations around
Are groaning with famine, our garners abound!

Praise the Lord for his mercy! with meekness there came
A maid out of Moab to worship His name;
We will welcome her hither with song and with prayer,
In the field of our master the corn she shall share.
Who will turn from idolatry, thus, will the Lord
With friends and with plenty and honour reward.
Praise the Lord for his bounty! while nations around,
Are groaning with famine, our garners abound!

NAOMI AND RUTH.

CHAP. III.

NAOMI.

My father land! O Canaan, I rejoice
Upon thy treasure-teeming soil to be;
Yet midst thy plenty, who shall hear the voice
Of helpless, friendless, widowed poverty?

C