Though firm in God the Spirit holds her trust,

The Flesh is frail, and trembles into dust.

Horror and anguish seize me;-'tis the hour

Of darkness, and I mourn beneath its

power;

The Tempter plies me with his direst art,

I feel the Serpent coiling round my heart,

He stirs the wound he once inflicted there,

Instills the deadening poison of despair, Belies the truth of God's delaying grace,

And bids me curse my Maker to His face.

I will not curse Him, though His grace delay;

I will not cease to trust Him, though He slay;

Full on His promised mercy I rely, For God hath spoken-God who cannot lie.

Thou of my faith, the Author and the end!

Mine early, late, and everlasting Friend! The joy, that once thy presence gave,

restore

Ere I am summoned hence, and seen no more:

Down to the dust returns this early frame,

Receive my spirit, Lord! from whom it

came;

Rebuke the Tempter, show thy power

to save,

O let thy glory light me to the grave, That these, who witness my departing breath,

May learn to triumph in the grasp of

death."

He closed his eyelids with a tranquil smile,

And seemed to rest in silent prayer awhile;

Around his couch with filial awe we kneeled,

When suddenly a light from heaven revealed

A Spirit that stood within the unopen'd door;

The sword of God in his right hand

he bore:

His countenance was lightning, and his

vest

Like snow at sunrise on the mountain's crest;

Yet so benignly beautiful his form,
His presence stilled the fury of the

storm;

At once the winds retire, the waters

cease:

His look was love, his salutation "Peace!"

Our mother first beheld him, sore amazed,

But terror grew to transport, while she gazed:

"Tis He, the Prince of Seraphim, who drove

Our banished feet from Eden's happy

grove;

Adam, my life, my spouse, awake!" she cried;

"Return to Paradise; behold thy Guide! O let me follow!" In this dear embrace She sunk; and on his bosom hid her face.

Adam looked up; his visage changed its hue,

Transformed into an angel's at the view;

"I come!" he cried, with faith's full triumph fired,

And in a sigh of ecstasy expired. The light was vanished, and the vision fled;

We stood alone, the living with the dead;

The ruddy embers, glimmering round the room,

Displayed the corpse amidst the solemn gloom;

But o'er the scene a holy calm reposed, The gate of heaven had opened there, and closed.

Eve's faithful arm still clasped her lifeless spouse;

Gently I shook it, from her trance to

Love bound their lives, and death could not divide.

Trembling astonishment of grief we felt,

Till nature's sympathies began to melt; We wept in stillness through the long, dark night:

And O how welcome was the morning light!

ANONYMOUS.

THE DEATH OF ADAM.

'T WAS Adam at the gates of Paradise; Sick with the world's first sickness, prostrate, pale,

Low lay he, in his pain. And they made wail

That stood by him: "O father, dim your eyes

And filmed; they cannot see the dreadful skies.

Across the heavens black cloud-wings reach and sail,

And prowling shadow crouches in the vale.

What burden, father, on the hurt earth lies?"

"I hunger, wife and children, for the bough

Whereof I ate. Go thou, swift-footed Seth,

And pluck from that sweet tree."

With eyes mist-dim

He looked on it. "Nay, wife, nay, children, now

Is here the one He spake of to me,Death;

With hollow voice he bids me follow him."

JOHN VANCE CHENEY (1848–).

THE SONG OF LAMECH. HEARKEN to me, ye mothers of my tent: Ye wives of Lamech, hearken to my speech:

Adah, let Jubal hither lead his goats: And Tubal Cain, O Zillah, hush the forge;

Naamah her wheel shall ply beside, and thou,

My Jubal, touch, before I speak, the string.

Hear ye my voice, belovèd of my tent, Dear ones of Lamech, listen to my speech.

Lo, I have spoke with God, and He hath said,

Fear not; so let me go as He hath said,

Cain also said (O Jubal, touch thy

string),

Moreover, in the darkness of my mind, When the night's night of misery was most black,

A little star came twinkling up within, And in myself I had a guide that led, And in myself had knowledge of a soul. Fear not, O Adam and O Eve: I go.

Children of Lamech, listen to my speech.

For when the years were multiplied, and Cain

Eastward of Eden, in this land of Nod, Had sons, and sons of sons, and sons of them,

Enoch and Irad and Mehujael

(My father, and my children's grandsire he),

It came to pass that Cain, who dwelt alone,

Met Adam, at the nightfall, in the field: Who fell upon his neck, and wept, and said,

My son, has not God spoken to thee, Cain?

And Cain replied, when weeping loosed his voice,

My dreams are double, O my father, good

And evil. Terror to my soul by night, And agony by day, when Abel stands A dead, black shade, and speaks not, neither looks,

Nor makes me any answer when I cryCurse me, but let me know thou art alive.

But comfort also, like a whisper, comes, In visions of a deeper sleep, when he, Abel, as him we knew, yours once and mine,

Comes with a free forgiveness in his face,

Seeming to speak, solicitous for words, And wearing ere he go the old, first look

Of unsuspecting, unforeboding love. Three nights ago I saw him thus, my Sire.

And he lifted high his brawny hand
On the iron glowing clear,

Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet

showers,

As he fashioned the sword and spear. And he sang-"Hurrah for my handiwork!

Hurrah for the spear and the sword! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,

For he shall be king and lord!"

To Tubal Cain came many a one,

As he wrought by his roaring fire, And each one prayed for a strong steel blade,

As the crown of his desire.

And he made them weapons sharp and strong,

Till they shouted loud for glee, And gave him gifts of pearl and gold, And spoils of the forest tree. And they sang-"Hurrah for Tubal Cain

Who hath given us strength anew! Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire,

And hurrah for the metal true!"

But a sudden change came o'er his heart
Ere the setting of the sun;
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain
For the evil he had done:

He saw that men, with rage and hate,
Made war upon their kind,
That the land was red with the blood
they shed,

In their lust for carnage blind.
And he said "Alas, that ever I made,

Or that skill of mine should plan, The spear and the sword, for men whose joy

Is to slay their fellow-man!"

And for many a day old Tubal Cain
Sat brooding o'er his woe;
And his hand forebore to smite the ore,
And his furnace smouldered low.
But he rose at last with a cheerful face,

And a bright courageous eye,

And bared his strong right arm for work,

While the quick flames mounted high. And he sang-"Hurrah for my handiwork!"

And the red sparks lit the air;

"Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,"

And he fashioned the first ploughshare.

And men, taught wisdom from the past, In friendship joined their hands, Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,

And ploughed the willing lands;
And sang-"Hurrah for Tubal Cain!
Our staunch good friend is he;
And for the ploughshare and the plough
To him our praise shall be.

But while oppression lifts its head,
Or a tyrant would be lord,
Though we may thank him for the
plough,

We'll not forget the sword."

CHARLES MACKAY (1814-1889).

THE LEGEND OF JUBAL.

WHEN Cain was driven from Jehovah's land

He wandered eastward, seeking some far strand

Ruled by kind gods who asked no offerings

Save pure field-fruits, as aromatic things,

To feed the subtler sense of frames divine

That lived on fragrance for their food and wine:

Wild joyous gods, who winked at faults and folly,

And could be pitiful and melancholy. He never had a doubt that such gods

were;

He looked within, and saw them mirrored there.

Some think he came at last to Tartary, And some to Ind; but, howsoe'er it be, His staff he planted where sweet waters

ran,

And in that home of Cain the Arts began.

Man's life was spacious in the early world:

It paused, like some slow ship with sail unfurled

Waiting in seas by scarce a wavelet curled;

Beheld the slow star-paces of the skies,

Her hair in mimic mats, and pauses oft And strokes across her hand the tresses soft,

Then peeps to watch the poisèd butterfly,

Or little burthened ants that homeward hie.

Time was but leisure to their lingering thought,

There was no need for haste to finish aught;

But sweet beginnings were repeated still

Like infant babblings that no task fulfil;

For love, that loved not change, constrained the simple will.

Till, hurling stones in mere athletic joy, Strong Lamech struck and killed his fairest boy.

And tried to wake him with the tenderest cries,

And fetched and held before the glazed eyes

The things they best had loved to look

twain

Helplessly gazing, till their father Cain Parted the press, and said, "He will not wake;

This is the endless sleep, and we must make

A bed deep down for him beneath the sod;

For know, my sons, there is a mighty God

Angry with all man's race, but most with me.

I fled from out His land in vain!-'tis He

Who came and slew the lad, for He has found

This home of ours, and we shall all be bound

By the harsh bands of His most cruel will,

Which any moment may some dear one kill.

Nay, though we live for countless moons, at last

We and all ours shall die like summers

past.