University of Virginia Library

BIBLICAL PICTURES.

THE FIRST SABBATH.

Six days the heavenly host, in circle vast,
Like that untouching cincture which enzones
The globe of Saturn, compassed wide this orb,
And with the forming mass floated along,
In rapid course, through yet untravelled space,
Beholding God's stupendous power,—a world
Bursting from Chaos at the omnific will,
And perfect ere the sixth day's evening star
On Paradise arose. Blessod that eve!
The Sabbath's harbinger, when, all complete,
In freshest beauty from Jehovah's hand,
Creation bloomed; when Eden's twilight face
Smiled like a sleeping babe: The voice divine
A holy calm breathed o'er the goodly work:
Mildly the sun, upon the loftiest trees,
Shed mellowly a sloping beam. Peace reigned,
And love, and gratitude: The human pair
Their orisons poured forth: love, concord, reigned:
The falcon, perched upon the blooming bough
With Philomela, listened to her lay;
Among the antlered herd the tiger couched,
Harmless; the lion's mane no terror spread
Among the careless ruminating flock.
Silence was o'er the deep; the noiseless surge,
The last subsiding wave,—of that dread tumult
Which raged, when Ocean, at the mute command,
Rushed furiously into his new-cleft bed,—
Was gently rippling on the pebbled shore;
While, on the swell, the sea-bird, with her head
Wing-veiled, slept tranquilly. The host of heaven,
Entranced in new delight, speechless adored;
Nor stopped their fleet career, nor changed their form
Encircular, till on that hemisphere,—
In which the blissful garden sweet exhaled
Its incense, odorous clouds,—the Sabbath dawn
Arose; then wide the flying circle oped,
And soared, in semblance of a mighty rainbow:
Silent ascend the choirs of Seraphim;
No harp resounds, mute is each voice; the burst
Of joy, and praise, reluctant they repress,—
For love and concord all things so attuned
To harmony, that Earth must have received
The grand vibration, and to the centre shook:
But soon as to the starry altitudes
They reached, then what a storm of sound, tremendous,
Swelled through the realms of space! The morning stars
Together sang, and all the sons of God
Shouted for joy! Loud was the peal; so loud,
As would have quite o'erwhelmed the human sense;
But to the Earth it came a gentle strain,
Like softest fall breathed from Æolian lute,
When 'mid the chords the evening gale expires.
Day of the Lord! creation's hallowed close!
Day of the Lord! (prophetical they sang)
Benignant mitigation of that doom,
Which must, ere long, consign the fallen race,
Dwellers in yonder star, to toil and woe!

THE FINDING OF MOSES.

Slow glides the Nile: amid the margin flags,
Closed in a bulrush ark, the babe is left,
Left by a mother's hand. His sister waits
Far off; and pale, 'tween hope and fear, beholds
The royal maid, surrounded by her train,
Approach the river bank; approach the spot
Where sleeps the innocent: She sees them stoop
With meeting plumes; the rushy lid is oped,
And wakes the infant, smiling in his tears,—
As when along a little mountain lake,
The summer south-wind breathes with gentle sigh,
And parts the reeds, unveiling, as they bend,
A water-lily floating on the wave.

JACOB AND PHARAOH.

Pharaoh, upon a gorgeous throne of state
Was seated; while around him stood submiss
His servants, watchful of his lofty looks.
The Patriarch enters, leaning on the arm
Of Benjamin. Unmoved by all the glare
Of royalty, he scarcely throws a glance
Upon the pageant show; for from his youth
A shepherd's life he led, and viewed each night
The starry host; and still where'er he went
He felt himself in presence of the Lord.
His eye is bent on Joseph, him pursues.
Sudden the king descends; and, bending, kneels
Before the aged man, and supplicates
A blessing from his lips: the aged man
Lays on the ground his staff, and, stretching forth
His tremulous hand o'er Pharaoh's uncrowned head,
Prays that the Lord would bless him and his land.

JEPHTHA'S VOW.

From conquest Jephtha came, with faultering step,
And troubled eye: His home appears in view;
He trembles at the sight. Sad he forebodes,—
His vow will meet a victim in his child:
For well he knows, that, from her earliest years,
She still was first to meet his homeward steps:
Well he remembers, how, with tottering gait,
She ran, and clasped his knees, and lisped, and looked
Her joy; and how, when garlanding with flowers
His helm, fearful, her infant hand would shrink
Back from the lion couched beneath the crest.
What sound is that, which, from the palm-tree grove,
Floats now with choral swell, now fainter falls
Upon the ear? It is, it is the song
He loved to hear,—a song of thanks and praise,
Sung by the patriarch for his ransomed son.
Hope from the omen springs: O, blessed hope!
It may not be her voice!—Fain would he think
'Twas not his daughter's voice, that still approached,
Blent with the timbrel's note. Forth from the grove
She foremost glides of all the minstrel band:
Moveless he stands; then grasps his hilt, still red
With hostile gore, but, shuddering, quits the hold;
And clasps, in agony, his hands, and cries,
“Alas, my daughter! thou hast brought me low.”—
The timbrel at her rooted feet resounds.

SAUL AND DAVID.

Deep was the furrow in the royal brow,
When David's hand, lightly as vernal gales
Rippling the brook of Kedron, skimmed the lyre:
He sung of Jacob's youngest born,—the child
Of his old age,—sold to the Ishmaelite;
His exaltation to the second power
In Pharaoh's realm; his brethren thither sent;
Suppliant they stood before his face, well known,
Unknowing,—till Joseph fell upon the neck
Of Benjamin, his mother's son, and wept.
Unconsciously the warlike shepherd paused;
But when he saw, down the yet-quivering string,
The tear-drop trembling glide, abashed, he checked,
Indignant at himself, the bursting flood,
And, with a sweep impetuous, struck the chords:
From side to side his hands transversely glance,
Like lightning thwart a stormy sea; his voice
Arises 'mid the clang, and straightway calms
The harmonious tempest, to a solemn swell
Majestical, triumphant; for he sings
Of Arad's mighty host by Israel's arm
Subdued; of Israel through the desart led,
He sings; of him who was their leader, called,
By God himself, from keeping Jethro's flock,
To be a ruler o'er the chosen race.
Kindles the eye of Saul; his arm is poised;—
Harmless the javelin quivers in the wall.

ELIJAH FED BY RAVENS.

Sore was the famine throughout all the bounds
Of Israel, when Elijah, by command
Of God, journeyed to Cherith's failing brook.
No rain-drops fall, no dew-fraught cloud, at morn,
Or closing eve, creeps slowly up the vale;
The withering herbage dies; among the palms,
The shrivelled leaves send to the summer gale
An Autumn rustle; no sweet songster's lay
Is warbled from the branches; scarce is heard
The rill's faint brawl. The prophet looks around,
And trusts in God, and lays his silvered head
Upon the flowerless bank; serene he sleeps,
Nor wakes till dawning: Then, with hands enclasped,
And heavenward face, and eyelids closed, he prays
To Him who manna on the desart showered,
To Him who from the rock made fountains gush:
Entranced the man of God remains; till roused
By sound of wheeling wings, with grateful heart,
He sees the ravens fearless by his side
Alight, and leave the heaven-provided food.

THE BIRTH OF JESUS ANNOUNCED.

Deep was the midnight silence in the fields
Of Bethlehem; hushed the folds; save that, at times
Was heard the lamb's faint bleat: the shepherds, stretched
On the green sward, surveyed the starry vault:
The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
The firmament shews forth thy handy work;
Thus they, their hearts attuned to the Most High;—
When, suddenly, a splendid cloud appeared,
As if a portion of the milky way
Descended slowly in a spiral course.
Near, and more near it draws; then, hovering, floats,
High as the soar of eagle, shedding bright,
Upon the folded flocks, a heavenly radiance,
From whence was uttered loud, yet sweet, a voice,—
Fear not, I bring good tidings of great joy;
For unto you is born this day a Saviour!
And this shall be a sign to you,—the babe,
Laid lowly in a manger, ye shall find.
The angel spake; when, lo! upon the cloud,
A multitude of Seraphim, enthroned,
Sang praises, saying,—Glory to the Lord
On high; on earth be peace, good will to men.
With sweet response harmoniously they choired,
And while, with heavenly harmony, the song
Arose to God, more bright the buoyant throne
Illumed the land: The prowling lion stops,
Awe-struck, with mane upreared, and flattened head;
And, without turning, backward on his steps
Recoils, aghast, into the desart gloom.
A trembling joy the astonished shepherds prove,
As heavenward re-ascends the vocal blaze
Triumphantly; while, by degrees, the strain
Dies on the ear, that self-deluded listens,—
As if a sound so sweet could never die.

BEHOLD MY MOTHER AND MY BRETHREN.

Who is my mother, or my brethren?—
He spake, and looked on them who sat around,
With a meek smile, of pity blent with love,
More melting than e'er gleamed from human face,—
As when a sun-beam, through a summer shower,
Shines mildly on a little hill-side flock;
And with that look of love, he said, Behold
My mother, and my brethren: for I say,
That whosoe'er shall do the will of God,
He is my brother, sister, mother, all.

BARTIMEUS RESTORED TO SIGHT.

Blind, poor, and helpless, Bartimeus sate,
Listening the foot of the wayfaring man,
Still hoping that the next, and still the next,
Would put an alms into his trembling hand.
He thinks he hears the coming breeze faint rustle
Among the sycamores; it is the tread
Of thousand steps; it is the hum of tongues
Innumerable: But when the sightless man
Heard that the Nazarene was passing by,
He cried, and said,—“Jesus, thou son of David,
Have mercy upon me!” and, when rebuked,
He cried the more, “Have mercy upon me.”
Thy faith hath made thee whole; so Jesus spake,
And straight the blind beheld the face of God.

LITTLE CHILDREN BROUGHT TO JESUS.

Suffer that little children come to me,
Forbid them not. Emboldened by his words,
The mothers onward press; but, finding vain
The attempt to reach the Lord, they trust their babes
To strangers' hands: The innocents, alarmed
Amid the throng of faces all unknown,
Shrink, trembling,—till their wandering eyes discern
The countenance of Jesus, beaming love
And pity; eager then they stretch their arms,
And, cowring, lay their heads upon his breast.

JESUS CALMS THE TEMPEST.

The roaring tumult of the billowed sea
Awakes him not: high on the crested surge,
Now heaved, his locks flow streaming in the blast;
And, now descending, 'tween the sheltering waves,
The falling tresses veil the face divine:
Meek though that veil a momentary gleam,
Benignant, shines; he dreams that he beholds
The opening eyes,—that long hopeless had rolled
In darkness,—look around bedimmed with tears
Of joy; but, suddenly, the voice of fear
Dispelled the happy vision: Awful he rose,
Rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea,
Peace, be thou still! and straight there was a calm,
With terror-mingled gladness in their looks,
The mariners exclaim,—What man is this,
That even the wind and sea obey his voice!

JESUS WALKS ON THE SEA,

AND CALMS THE STORM.

Loud blew the storm of night; the thwarting surge
Dashed, boiling on the labouring bark: Dismay,
From face to face reflected, spread around:—
When, lo! upon a towering wave is seen
The semblance of a foamy wreath, upright,
Move onward to the ship: The helmsman starts,
And quits his hold; the voyagers, appalled,
Shrink from the fancied Spirit of the Flood:
But when the voice of Jesus, with the storm
Soft mingled, It is I, be not afraid,
Fear fled, and joy lightened from eye to eye.
Up he ascends, and, from the rolling side,
Surveys the tumult of the sea and sky
With transient look severe: The tempest, awed,
Sinks to a sudden calm; the clouds disperse;
The moon-beam trembles on the face divine,
Reflected mildly in the unruffled deep.

THE DUMB CURED.

His eyes uplifted, and his hands close clasped,
The dumb man, with a supplicating look,
Turned, as the Lord passed by: Jesus beheld,
And on him bent a pitying look, and spake:
His moving lips are by the suppliant seen,
And the last accents of the healing sentence
Ring in that ear which never heard before.
Prostrate the man restored falls to the earth,
And uses first the gift, the gift sublime,
Of speech, in giving thanks to him, whose voice
Was never uttered but in doing good.

THE DEATH OF JESUS.

'Tis finished: he spake the words, and bowed
His head, and died.—Beholding him far off,
They, who had ministered unto him, hope,—
'Tis his last agony: The Temple's vail
Is rent; revealing the most holy place,
Wherein the cherubims their wings extend,
O'ershadowing the mercy-seat of God.
Appalled, the leaning soldier feels the spear
Shake in his grasp; the planted standard falls
Upon the heaving ground: The sun is dimmed,
And darkness shrouds the body of the Lord.

THE RESURRECTION.

The setting orb of night her level ray
Shed o'er the land, and, on the dewy sward,
The lengthened shadows of the triple cross
Were laid far stretched,—when in the east arose,
Last of the stars, day's harbinger: No sound
Was heard, save of the watching soldier's foot:
Within the rock-barred sepulchre, the gloom
Of deepest midnight brooded o'er the dead,
The holy one; but, lo! a radiance faint
Began to dawn around his sacred brow:
The linen vesture seemed a snowy weath,
Drifted by storms into a mountain cave:
Bright, and more bright, the circling halo beamed
Upon that face, clothed in a smile benign,
Though yet exanimate. Nor long the reign
Of death; the eyes, that wept for human griefs,
Unclose, and look around with conscious joy:
Yes; with returning life, the first emotion
That glowed in Jesus' breast of love, was joy
At man's redemption, now complete; at death
Disarmed; the grave transformed into the couch
Of faith; the resurrection and the life.
Majestical he rose; trembled the earth;
The ponderous gate of stone was rolled away;
The keepers fell; the angel, awe-struck, shrunk
Into invisibility, while forth
The Saviour of the World walked, and stood
Before the sepulchre, and viewed the clouds
Empurpled glorious by the rising sun.

JESUS APPEARS TO THE DISCIPLES.

The evening of that day, which saw the Lord
Rise from the chambers of the dead, was come.
His faithful followers, assembled, sang
A hymn, low-breathed; a hymn of sorrow, blent
With hope;—when, in the midst, sudden he stood.
The awe-struck circle backward shrink; he looks
Around with a benignant smile of love,
And says, Peace be unto you: faith and joy
Spread o'er each face, amazed:—as when the moon,
Pavilioned in dark clouds, mildly comes forth,
Silvering a circlet in the fleecy rack.

PAUL ACCUSED

BEFORE THE TRIBUNAL OF THE AREOPAGUS.

Listen, that voice! upon the hill of Mars,
Rolling in bolder thunders, than e'er pealed
From lips that shook the Macedonian throne;
Behold his dauntless outstretched arm, his face
Illumed of heaven:—he knoweth not the fear
Of man, of principalities, of powers.
The Stoic's moveless frown; the vacant stare
Of Epicurus' herd; the scowl and gnash malign
Of Superstition, stopping both her ears;
The Areopagite tribunal dread,
From whence the doom of Socrates was uttered;—
This hostile throng dismays him not; he seems,
As if no worldly object could inspire
A terror in his soul;—as if the vision,
Which, when he journeyed to Damascus, shone
From heaven, still swam before his eyes,
Out-dazzling all things earthly; as if the voice,
That spake from out the effulgence, ever rang
Within his ear, inspiring him with words,
Burning, majestic, lofty, as his theme,—
The resurrection, and the life to come.

PAUL ACCUSED

BEFORE THE ROMAN GOVERNOR OF JUDEA.

The Judge ascended to the judgment-seat.
Amid a gleam of spears the Apostle stood.
Dauntless, he forward came; and looked around,
And raised his voice, at first, in accents low,
Yet clear; a whisper spread among the throng:—
So when the thunder mutters, still the breeze
Is heard, at times, to sigh; but when the peal,
Tremendous, louder rolls, a silence dead
Succeeds each pause,—moveless the aspen leaf.
Thus fixed, and motionless, the listening band
Of soldiers forward leaned, as from the man,
Inspired of God, truth's awful thunders rolled.
No more he feels, upon his high raised arm,
The ponderous chain, than does the playful child
The bracelet, formed of many a flowery link.
Heedless of self, forgetful that his life
Is now to be defended by his words,
He only thinks of doing good to them
Who seek his life; and, while he reasons high
Of justice, temperance, and the life to come,
The Judge shrinks trembling at the prisoner's voice.