From me to follow Thee! For she is mine,

My fair white lamb, mine only one; whilst Thou

Hast many, in Thy calm Fold on the hill

Of frankincense and myrrh. Lord, be

content

To lead Thy flock where shining waters sleep;

And leave the poor man in the wilder

ness

His one ewe lamb!"

But yet again she said, Appealing to me, "Suffer me to go To Him who calleth me! I love thee so That none but He could woo me from thy side,

Or make my heart content to go from thee

To all the joys of Heaven. And from the walls

Of that bright Palace-Home my soul will lean,

At morn and eve, to catch some distant sound

Of thy home-coming feet: as here I watched

For thy return at eve.

"If God had willed,

I would have gladly stayed; but we are
His,

And it is sweet to do a little thing
For Him who loves us so. He needeth

me

To be a sign for Him,-my death to stand

A figure to my people of the things Which He will do on them, except they

turn

And seek His face. And I am so content

To die for this! I could not speak for God,

As thou hast done so well; but I can die

For God, and for my people,-and for thee

To aid in thy great work.

"Forbid me not; Deny me not to Him. A day shall come When He shall give His Dearest to the death,

For thee and me!" The clouds had

parted now,

The love of God was shed abroad, within

My broken heart. I could not say Him Nay;

Or question Him. I laid my sacrifice Upon His altar, not denying Him Mine only one.

The stars came forth to crown The sad, still Night. I heard the distant song

Of one who sang, down by the riverside,

A song of Zion. From our exile-land My love was hastening, to the brighter Home

Of Israél. I bent to kiss her cheek, And blessed her softly in the Name of God,

And bade her go in peace. Yea, with a smile

Which God had given me, I loosed my hold

And suffered her to rise and go to Him.

An everlasting entrance, there my love Shall meet me smiling. After my long day

Of storm and conflict, I shall feel once

more

The joy of finding her awaiting me
At eventide, and drawing me to rest
With her in God. Then shall I hear at
length

Her sweet voice singing to the harps of gold,

And see her crowned with joy.

And He of whom

She spake to me that night, the Son of God,

The saving King of Israel, shall dwell With us, and be our God.

BARBARA MILLER MACANDREW.

DANIEL.

IMPERIAL Persia bowed to his wise

sway

A hundred provinces his daily care; A queenly city with its gardens fair Smiled round him-but his heart was far away.

Forsaking pomp and power "three times a day"

For chamber lone, he seeks his solace there;

Through windows opening westward floats his prayer

Towards the dear distance where Jerusalem lay.

So let me morn, noon, evening, steal aside,

And shutting my heart's door to earth's vain pleasure

And manifold solicitudes, find leisure The windows of my soul to open wide Towards that blest city and that heavenly treasure,

Which past these visible horizons hide. RICHARD WILTON (1827-).

[NABUCHODONOSOR.]

THE mighty trone, the precious tresor, The glorious sceptre, and real majestee,

That hadde the King Nabuchodonosor, With tonge unnethes may described be:

He twies wan Jerusalem the citee,

But sullen echoes answered from Eu

phrates' gloomy waters, Echoes that mocked the heart-wring

grief of Jewry's sons and daughters. Sad echoes that recalled the days when Jehovah's mighty Hand, Guided them through the Red Sea

waves all safe as on dry land, Reviving to the eye the darkened glories of Sinai,

Rocked to its base beneath the burning

tread of Adonai;

'Mid thunderings and lightnings gleaming on that God-writ stone, While the Prophet's face, as he descended, like a Glory shone; Echoes that brought back the land where milk and honey flowed, And Jordan's stream yet destined for the baptism of God,

The conquered Hivite-Jebuzite; and

Gideon's-Joshua's sword,

Cities and heroes prostrate by the might of Israel's Lord;

The bright Schechinah that once burned between the Cherubim

For aye withdrawn by God; its place once glorious, dark and dim! Sad images were those that rose from echoes as they strayed, 'Mong strings that lent the exile's harping Music's darkest shade; Upon the willow hangs the harp, the minstrel can but weep

At the sad notes that through the strings in fitful pauses sweep"Shall the conquered sing the song of Zion in a stranger-land? How can we sing the Lord's song at a conqueror's command?

Oh! Babel's daughter! happy he who in vengeance for our groans, Shall dash thy godless children down, aye-even to the stones!"

Bright were the lamps that burned within Belshazzar's festal-hall, And cup and garland twined their blush at that high carnival;

And feasting and rejoicing all held high and impious sway,

As though no night of judgment were
to close that Godless day:
The gold and silver vessels that the
Temple of the Lord

On Zion's hill adorned, decked now the heathen's festal-board,

And feasting and Religion there had twined their fearful spell,

For they had given these holy vessels to their idol, Bel.

"Bring forth those golden vessels !" cries the king, full-flushed with wine, "That my father bore in triumph from the Hebrews' gorgeous shrine; And let us in their own bright gold and silver blets drain

Honor and glory to the hand that wove the Hebrews' chain!"

Forth brought they then the vessels, and they fill them up with wine, And joyous echoes rang, as drank king, peer, and concubine,

Forgetting not to mingle with the madness of that hour,

Blasphemies on Jehovah's name, and insults to His power;

For they no longer deemed Him true in promise, act, or word

Who gave His favored people to captivity and sword!

"Fill high, fill high-let every cup brim

with its sparkling freight! 'Tis not for kings to crouch, like men, at word of Death or FateKings are immortal-"

While thus spake a flattering lord, behold! A dazzling light, like rainbow, fell around those cups of gold; And fear and trembling fell on all, and the speaker stood like one God's long-staid hand in judgment smote to semblance as of stone; For his jewelled fingers pointed, and his eyes they shone like glass, wizard-wand makes forms in silence o'er it pass! They looked, and lo! upon the wall the finger of a man

When

spectre

Joy thrilled on every lip, and pleasure

lighted every brow;

The wine no longer sparkles, and the cups untasted stand,

While fixed as marble's every eye upon that cloudy hand;

Muffled in mantle every face - bowed every knee in prayer,

Such prayer as doomed souls mutterhalf in fear and half despair, While an icy chillness rests on all, as though they feel the breath Of one whose home, though now on earth, was in the Land of Death! Then started from his trance the king, and gazed upon the crowd, That seemed not guests-but worshippers, for every knee was bowed; And, as he saw the palsied hand, and the lip spell-bound with fear, His stubborn knees, they almost bend, for he felt that God was near;Then spake he:-"Call the Magi! Let Chaldea's seers declare

The mystery of good or ill a God hath written there;

And he that shall the tidings of that

writing dark unfold,

With scarlet shall be clothed, and wear a chain of massive gold!" Lo! entered then, the Magi; while the anxious eyes of all

Passed quickly from the Soothsayers to the writing on the wall,

Both lip and cheek were bloodless, and chill terror held the breath Of each one, as he paused to hear a message as from Death!

Long space the Magi strove to dis

entwine the mystic chain That bound those words from human eye; but all their lore was vainNow heavier shadows fell upon Belshazzar's livid face,

Shadows of fear and pain that in the

dying you may trace;

His lips, they muttered half in prayer, with hands, like iron, bound In prayer's convulsive grasp, he looked in agony around;

It was the wrung and anguished speech that silence more than tells, For in its muteness, as a shrine, the soul's deep suffering dwells! As thus they stood, King, peer, and concubine, like those within

The cities of the plain, awaiting the dread doom of sin,

The Queen, with voice like spirit blessed, the grave-like silence brake; "Oh, King! for ever live and from this trance awake-awake!

Let not thy thoughts, thus, trouble thee, nor Sorrow fling her veil Athwart thy brow, like Mourning, o'er the dead one cold and pale;For lo there's one, my son! within thy kingdom who can read

All mysteries that Bel and Nebo on Belshazzar have decreed,

One whom thy father master made of all Chaldea's seers,

For in him the spirit of the gods, like Wisdom's self, appears!

Let Belteshazzar now be called, and he will straightway show

What means this mystic messenger that
makes thee tremble now?"
Then was Daniel brought before the
King; and thus Belshazzar said:-
"Speak! art thou of those conquered
tribes my father captive led

In years by-gone, from Jewry?" "Lo!
thy servant is thy slave;-
What can a captive give, oh King! his
Conqueror would have?"

The King spake not: but raised his quivering finger where the hand Stood still and misty, like a herald from a dim and distant land;

E'en such a herald heaven might send, 'mid pestilence and war,

To open long-closed phials from some dark, malignant star,

When nations veil the heart-no longer clouds of incense rise,

And the sun looks too weak and wan to light the morning-skies! But Daniel gazed unblenching, for his trust was in his God,

Whether amid the furnace-flames, or lions' den he trod;

For martyr-like baptized in flames was Daniel's holy faith,

And purged with flames he stood, and

wore the martyr's holy wreath! "Oh King! our God most High and Mighty, gave thy father's crown The choicest gifts of Heaven-glory, honor, and renown,

And with thy Sire, where'er he went, were majesty and awe,

His very frown was conquest, and his

iron will was law!

All nations and all languages, they feared and trembled too, For whom he would, he spared alive, and whom he would he slew! But when, in self-reliance, he forgat his trust in God,

And in very pride his head was raised above the earth he trod, When in self-glory of the flesh his pride was lifted up,

Then did God's long-staid hand first mingle tears within his cup;Yes, shame and sorrow were thy Sire's, when from the haunts of men Sent forth to seek a home, he found it in the wild beasts' den, And with the oxen, he ate grass-with dew he quenched his thirst;And thy Sire, oh King! to herd with

beasts, was for his pride accurst! Now mark what I aread thee, King! thy father's crime is thine, Thy soul is lifted up against the Majesty Divine;

Of old the angels forfeited their high estate for pride,

Look round thee, King! and say hast thou not God thyself defied? What see I here, amid these gold and silver vessels piled,

But God himself insulted, and His Holy Shrine despoiled?

What see I here, amid these cups of silver and of gold,

But King and Victor both his proud
and swelling heart unfold?
What see I, amid revelry, and song, and
dance, and wine,

Save blasphemy on those things God
Himself hath made Divine?
And now, oh King! prepare thee in this
last and fearful hour

To read a message in yon' hand from
God's insulted power!"

He said but, ere the holy herald had his mission given

Behold around a radiance, as though each world in heaven

Had registered that moment with its own immortal light,

Ere Babylon for ever sank to ruin and to night!

And, 'mid that glory radiant as from God's own beaming throne,

Such as from Hinnom's bloody vale, and Tophet's depths arise,

When parents, with their own hands, give their strangled babes to Bel, That ev'n Religion's self hath made her shrine and vale a Hell!

Another blast-another- is the right arm of the Lord

Uplifted thus, in wrath so soon to verify His Word?

Fall in the dust, proud Babylon! Call on the rocks to hide

Thy lazar-house of guilt and sin-thy leprosy of pride;

Where are the gods, Belshazzar! now, that girded once thy throne? Vain, vain to summon to thine aid those blocks of wood and stone,

Bel croucheth-Nebo stoopeth, and their shrines are broken down,

For hark! the True God cometh now, with sceptre and with crown,

Comes on the midnight-storm's dark wing, with trumpet - blast, and sword,

Bow down, thou kingly worm! bow at the footstool of thy Lord