University of Virginia Library

Beneath the Palm-tree, in the noon-tide heat,
Abraham reclined, and felt that rest was sweet.
Toward Lebanon he gazed, with cedars crown'd.
The birds, in wanton gladness, sported round,
And whilst deep silence mark'd the earth and air,
To God his thoughts ascend in ardent prayer.
An Angel to the Patriarch appears!
He cried, “Behold thy friend! Allay thy fears!
“Whoe'er aspires to reach the upper sky
“Must guard with vigilance, his heart, his eye;
“Partner must seek, who, like himself, will feel,
“And not retard his course, and quench his zeal.
“Here are idolaters! With tempting smile,
“They would (of hell inspired) thy Son beguile.
“He, with thyself, hath my protection shared,
“And I, for him, far off, have Wife prepared.
“Thou, up to Bethuel send. He fears my name!
“Himself, his Sire, his Offspring, all the same!”
The Vision ceas'd, like a departed flame!

Abraham, his Servant call'd, when thus he spake.
“Thy scrip, thy food, thy camels, instant take.
“Go, seek my Brother! From his house obtain,
“Where God, alone, in every heart doth reign!
“The Wife for Isaac! None who sojourn here,
“Walk in Jehovah's light, nor him revere!
“Here vanity her evil race doth run.
“From far must come the Helpmeet for my Son,
“For God hath said, whom I have long confess'd,
“‘That in my seed all nations shall be bless'd.’
“Haste thou to Bethuel, ere yon orb decline,
“And let the vow, the solemn oath be thine!”

The Servant thus replies. “No easy thing,
“Were it, from Nahor's house, the Wife to bring;
“For who would come, with stranger such as I?
“Were I to whisper Isaac's secret sigh
“The frighted maid would from my presence fly.”

Abraham replied. “If God doth rule below,
“And ever guide our wanderings, to and fro,
“Our least concerns, distinctly comprehend,
“Will he, in such an hour, no succour send?—
“To bring about th' event, that, here on earth,
“Gives to ten thousand thoughts and actions birth,
“Yet bears, to faith and reason's equal eye,
“Its grandest aspect to eternity?
“If God designs to prosper thee, and give
“This blessing to my Son, in whom I live,
“All obstacles shall vanish! Hear once more.
“Thou shalt be prosper'd! One shall go before,
“To smooth thy way, upon thy path, to shine,
“And thou shalt see and bless the Hand Divine.”

Ten camels now by Abraham's tent appear,
Rich in all store, the faithful servant near.
Isaac comes forth, before his Sire, and cries,
With palpitating heart and glistening eyes,
“Plead earnest. Bring me, favour'd from above,
“One, from my Father's house, whom I may love,
“And speed thou with the pinion of the dove!”
Thus saying, he retired; when Abraham, now,
And Sarah (who, with years long-lengthen'd, bow)
Draw near. They bless the Servant; thus they say,
“Jehovah prosper thee in all thy way!
“Make every path, in doubtful moment, clear,
“And bear our love to Nahor, brother dear!”
The Servant passes on. “Stop!” Sarah cried,
“These Ear-rings, these rich Bracelets I provide
“For Sarah's Hope, and Isaac's future Bride;
“And mind thou praise my Son, to all endear'd,
“As fair a flower as ever nature rear'd.”

Now, on his way, the Servant passes slow.
The camels, one by one, contented go:
High o'er the hills they climb, or cross the plain;
And now, thro' woods, their patient course maintain.
The flood of gold had oft the orient fired,
And many a sun, in peerless pomp, retired,
When by the city Nahor call'd his own,
The Servant, half dishearten'd, sat alone.
Gazing upon the evening firmament,
He seem'd upon an idle errand sent.
The thought arose that he would Heaven implore.
His heart he lifts, amid confusion sore;
“Teach me,” he cried, “the wisest way to take!
“For Isaac, for my reverend Master's sake.
“Oh, guide me in this hour of doubt and pain,
“Nor let me hither speed, and speed in vain.
“Here is the well, where maids, at even tide,
“Come forth to draw, and for their wants provide:
“Grant that the damsel, who may feel for age,
“When I for water ask, my thirst t' assuage,
“And, prompted by humanity's sweet law,
“May offer, for my camels, faint, to draw,
“May this be she, appointed by thy hand
“To bless my Master's heart, my Master's hand.'

He scarce had offer'd up the mental prayer,
When, lo! a Damsel, as the evening, fair,
Blooming, with ringlets, waving wild in air,
Thither repair'd, to draw the pure, white, wave,
And home to bear what bounteous nature gave.

The Servant slow approach'd and thus began.
“Have pity on a lone and weary man!
“Oh! Damsel, from thy pitcher let me drink,
“For, lo! with heat I faint, with toil I sink.”
The Damsel, with the feeling heart replied,
“Drink, Stranger! of this cold and cheering tide;
“And, as old age thy locks hath silver'd o'er,
“I will return, and draw some water more
“For these thy thirsty camels.” As she said,
The Servant closed his eye, and bow'd his head,
Owning His power, who light from darkness brings,
And guides, to eye unseen, all mortal things.

The camels now had drunk, when, from his store,
The stranger, forth, his rings and bracelets bore.
“Take these,” he spake, “these ornaments, and say,
“Who is thy Father, and, as closes, day,
“If thou hast room and provender to spare
“For me and for these beasts, till morning, fair,
“Bids me renew my toil, and onward bear.”

The Damsel with delight receives the prize,
And, in the glow of grateful ardour, cries,
“We have both room and food.” She said no more
But, with the light foot, hastening on before,
Fled to her Father's house. Earnest, she spake,
“Behold these gifts of gold! To pity wake!
“Fly to the well! An aged Man is there!
“He succour needs, and we have food to spare!”
Her speech the Brother heard, and, rushing out,
(His dog beside) with sturdy step, and stout,
Hastes to the well! He sees the aged Man,
And thus, with hospitable voice began.
“Oh! blessed of the Lord! who here art sent,
“Let me conduct thee to our neighbouring tent;
“And for these camels that beside thee lie,
“Joyful, will we the provender supply.”
Whilst evening's dews around descended fast,
The Servant, urged by kindness, onward past.

He enters now the door. All there await
The generous Man, with pause and wonder great.
He sees the board with rich abundance crown'd,
And young and old, alike, attentive round,
When, thus he said. “Kind friends and good you are;
“Heaven bless you all! But now your names declare!”
The Master cried. “My name is Bethuel.
“There is my Sire, Old Nahor. At yon well
“My child, Rebecca, thou didst first behold;
“And there is Laban, Son, that tends my fold.
“Welcome to this our roof! Receive our fare!
“And tarry long! It is our earnest care,
“Freely, our goods, with men, like thee, to share.”

The Stranger, grateful for the word, replied
“I thank you. Now no more my views I hide.
“I am a Servant. Abraham is my lord!”
Old Nahor, instant, rising at the word,
(A venerable man, with locks of grey,
Soon to be call'd to nobler worlds away,)
Thus answer made. “Is Abraham yet alive?
“My Brother? Doth he yet in health survive?
“Tho' now life's current feebly flows and chill,
“My spirit loves him as a Brother still.
“He taught me, first, on faith's strong wing to rise!
“He raised my heart, my hopes, beyond the skies!
“Take of our food! Thou art with toil opprest,
“And then, with blessings round, retire to rest;
“Tomorrow we will hear once more our guest.”

The Servant answer'd. “Abraham is well.
“His greetings kind he sends. But now I tell
“What business led me here, till which is said,
“I will not rest, partake, nor taste thy bread.
“I am a Servant. Abraham is my lord.
“Great store is his. He hath a bounteous board,
“Large flocks and herds, surpast of none around,
“And he, with fear of God, the whole hath crown'd.
“One Son hath Heaven bestow'd. A goodly youth,
“Whose brow is honesty, whose heart is truth.
“Me, late, my Master call'd, and thus began.
“‘Thou art my prop in age, a trusty man,
“Swear that thou never wilt a Wife obtain
“For Isaac, from these lands, where evils reign,
“And idols, wood, and stone, their rule maintain.
“Go to my Brother's house. To Nahor, speed,
“And for my duteous Son, my Isaac, plead.
“Seek there a Wife. May Heaven thy journey bless!
“And bring thee back, to cheer our heaviness.’
“Late, at the well, without thy walls, I stood,
“Musing on many things, but naught of good,
“Deeming, alas! with sore, disheart'ning fear,
“That me, a stranger, none would deign to hear,
“And dreading some mistake, with pang severe;
“A flood of consolation, in my mind,
“Sudden arose. The God of all mankind,
“I sought, with earnest hope and fervent prayer.
“‘Guide me,’ I said! ‘The clouds of evening, fair,
“Now gather round. The damsels, to this well,
“Soon, from yon town, will hasten, where they dwell,
“Grant that the maid, who, as with toil I sink,
“May, to thy servant, kindly give to drink;
“Grant that the maid, obeying pity's law,
“Who, for my camels, offers, prompt, to draw,
“And her full pitcher hands, with spirit meek,
“Oh! grant that she may be the maid I seek.’
“Ere yet the thought had faded, forth there came
“To fill her pitcher, one, of unknown name:
“Yon damsel, that now musing sits, the same!
“I ask'd. She granted with the willing mind;
“And, lo! she said, with accent soft and kind,
“`I for thy camels, too, will water find.”
“Now therefore, of a truth, do I perceive
“That God hath brought me here, and cease to grieve.
“Oh! Bethuel! Oh! Nahor, forth declare,
“If you will crown my hope, and, at my prayer,
“Let me Rebecca to my Master bear?”

Bethuel and Nahor cried, as low they bent,
“The thing is of the Lord! We must consent!
“Our Daughter, kind and gentle (whom we prize,
“Above each earthly gift that round us lies)
“When some ten days, too short! thou here dost stay,
“Thou, to thy Master's Son, shalt bear away.”
“Hinder me not!” the Servant, earnest, cried.
“To-morrow, let me haste, with Isaac's Bride.”
The Mother, and the Brother, thus replied.
“Here is the Maid. Let her alone decide.
“Wilt thou to-morrow go?” “I will!” she said.
The Servant heard, and lowly bow'd his head.

The morning dawns. The camels all appear:
The Servant waits: Rebecca now draws near.
The Mother spake. “Affection! till this hour
“Of anguish deep, I knew not half thy power!
“How shall I yield thee up! How, check the sigh,
“The tear that will bedim a Mother's eye!
“Heaven bless thee, oh, my Daughter! May'st thou see
“Good days and many! and in times, to be,
“Oh! think of one that loves thee! Think of me!”
Bethuel advanced, the tear upon his cheek,
He look'd, he sigh'd, he would, but could not speak.
Laban now came, with words of love prepared,
Firm in determin'd strength, that feeling dared:
But when he mark'd his weeping Sister dear,
And saw, too true! moment of parting near,
He could but press the hand and drop the tear.
Old Nahor, too, just whisper'd faint, “Farewell!
“Live here, thatthou, at last, in Heaven, may'st dwell!”
Rebecca now, with sorrow's sweetest grace,
Gives to each round, the fond and warm embrace;
And when, at length, the camels onward pace,
Gently she waves her hand, and hides her face.

Sarah, to Abbaham spake. “Oh! Husband, say!
“Where is our Isaac? From the earliest day,
“These eyes have seen him not.” The Father said,
“Yon fields, of late, he loves, alone, to tread.
“Perchance, with nature, sanctified around,
“Where all alike is lovely, sight and sound,
“He may delight, his canopy the air,
“To lift to Heaven, th' adoring heart, in prayer!”
But, other thoughts have prompted Isaac there!
The time draws on, when he might hope to see
The Servant, sent on far-off embassy.
And oft, in anxious search, he casts his eye
Up to the line that severs earth and sky,
And listens, whilst fond dreams his fancy cheat,
To catch the faintest sound of voice or feet!
“It is an age,” he said, “of lengthen'd pain;
“The Servant pleads and I shall sigh in vain.”

Emerging from a waving forest deep,
The Servant now drew nigh, and, down the steep,
His camels urged, Rebecca near his side.
The Maiden, in the fields, a stranger spied!
“And who is that?” she said, “that yonder strays?
“Now looking down; and now that here doth gaze.”
The Servant answer made, “My work is done!
“Hither he speeds! It is my Master's Son!”
The Maid alights, the blush upon her cheek
“My veil!” t' her faithful Nurse, she strove to speak;
And now the thin veil half conceals her face.
Isaac bounds on, as in impetuous race,
But when he nearer came, his speed subsides.
The tremor thro' his vein, unwonted, glides.
Slow he approaches. Words, so free of yore,
Now all are flown. Such beauty, not before,
Such loveliness, in woman, had he seen,
A look so sweet, with such commanding mien.
He would have said, while pressing faint her hand,
“First earthly treasure, welcome to this land.”
But vain he strove They each the glance impart,
And now he holds her rapturous to his heart!

The tidings fly. Old Abraham, from his seat,
Seizes his staff, and hurries out to meet.
Sarah, fast throws aside her homely dress,
And, clothed in special garb, with earnestness,
Follows her lord. And now they her have found,
For whom so many sighs were wont to sound,
And mix'd their tears, with cordial blessings round.

Borne, scarce conducted, to the dwelling near,
Sarah pours forth affection in her ear,
And hopes, and prays, that every joy below,
Isaac, and his Rebecca, long may know,
And the least part descend of human woe.

Now Abraham spake, the venerable sage,
Whose blood, in feeble current flow'd, with age;
And in whose aspect, there appear'd to be
So much of heaven, of angel dignity,
That, at his voice, all present seem'd to scan
The presence of some being, more than man.
Abraham thus spake. “My child, withhold thy tear!
“Welcome to Canaan's land, thrice welcome here!
“My earthly joy is o'er, my cup is dry.
“And now, with hope complete, I wait to die!
“Dear to my Son, Oh, Maid! and dear to me,
“A brother's features in thy face I see,
“With such sweet promise, that no thought is mine,
“But that thy path, with every grace will shine.”

From accident, th' involuntary spring
Of feeling, half unconscious of the thing,
Rebecca bends before her aged Sire.
Isaac fast follows her, whose warm desire,
Eyes, glist'ning, told, as to his knees they cleave.
Was, that they both, his blessing might receive!

Abraham look'd up, when thus the word went forth
“Enough of vanity! Enough of earth!
“I long to see the world, by faith, reveal'd!
“I pant for purer joys than time can yield!
“With weariness the load of flesh I bear!
“Heaven's regions wait, beyond this world of care!
“My home, and my inheritance are there!
“Before the mouldering veil of flesh is rent,
“Before I seek the upper Firmament,
“Receive a Father's blessing. May you rise,
“Like cedars, and a passing world despise!
“Oh! Children, for eternity be wise!
“And whilst, a little span, you sojourn here,
“(More faithful than myself) Jehovah fear!
“In each perplexing scene, or peril, fly
“And counsel ask of God, who still is nigh!
“An altar, near your house, immediate raise,
“And there, with incense sweet, your Maker praise!
“So shall his favour bless you all your days!
“My flocks, wide scatter'd, you erelong will own:
“Remember, ever, you are Stewards alone,
“And that th' account, to Heaven, Omnipotent.
“Strictly, must soon be given, of time mis-spent,
“Of every trust received, and talent lent.
“Oh! Children, shun the high and lofty mind!
“Be kind to all, and to yourselves be kind!
“Perfection is a flower not known below,
“And if, in hours to come, of joy, or woe,
“In one, in both, (the forfeit sin must pay!)
“Some things should rise, which you could wish away,
“Forgive the little fault, if such it be,
“And cover all, with holiest charity!
“My Children! with the kindling joy, I say,
“My spirit soon will rise and soar away,
“From mists and cheerless night, to perfect day!
“Oh! when your work is closed, your race is run,
“May we, in worlds, beyond yon glorious sun,
“Joining the Seraph Host who, God, adore,
“Again transported meet—to part no more!”

Silence awhile prevail'd, when tear and sigh,
Burst from each heart, and glisten'd in each eye.
And now, if happiness can dwell below,
Its presence Isaac and Rebecca know;
Both walking in Jehovah's light and fear,
Both own'd of God, with watchful angels near,
A Heaven beyond, and earth's best blessing here!