The date shdws when this volume yvns taken. All books not in use for' instriiction or re- search are limited to all borrowers. Volumes of periodi- cals 'and of pamphlets comprise so many sub- jects, that they are held tn the library as milch as possible. For spe- cial purposes they are given out fot a limited time. Graduates and sen- iors are allowed fiye volumes for two weekis. Other ' students may have two vols, from the circulating library for two weeks. Books not needed during recesS periods should be returned to the library, or arrange-, ments made for their , return during borrow- er's abseqpe, if wanted. Books needed by more than one person are held on the reserve list. Books of special value and gift, books, when the giver wishes it, are not allowed to circulate. Cornell University Library PR 4409.C9P9 The purpose of the ages, 3 1924 013 453 067 PR CfPl The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013453067 WORKS BY JEANIE M0RI80N. SNATCHES OF SONG. Cloth js., Paper is, 6d, (Bell and Bradfute, Edinburgh.) " We think they may fairly rank with many by Mrs. Kein3.ns."—JVesintinster Review. "The poetesses who have appeared within the last few years— commencing with Jean Ingelow, and closing (for the present) with Jeanie Morison and Mrs. Emily PfeifFer, more especially the two last-named ladies, run most gracefully into several melodious measures, as by a spontaneous impulse." — R. H. Home (author of Orion) in Contemporary Review. PONTIUS PILATE. A Drama. Cloth js. , Paper is. 6d. (Bell and Bradfute, Edinburgh.) "The language of the play is refined and sometimes eloquent, the closing scenes are impressively sombre, and the conflict in Pilate's mind, his thoughts that seem to hover on the verge of insanity, his belief that a curse is inapelling him to his doom, his anguish, which never softens into repentance, are delineated with subtlety and thrilling vigour." — ScotsTtian. ANE BOOKE OF BALLADES. Paper is, (Bell and Bradfute, Edinburgh.) " Burns' Birthday," said Mr. Whittier the other day, *' is a red-letter day in all our calendars. There is not a logger's camp in the Maine woods, nor a miner's hut in the Sierras, that will forget it. For one day at least we will all be Scotchmen. The great poet has made all the world his debtor. But what has he not done for Scotland ? That the inspiration of his high genius is still moving the hearts of her children is seen in Janet Hamilton's jE^e and Jeanie Morison's Booke pf Ballades." — Quoted in Pall Mall Budget. SAINT ISADORA, AND OTHER POEMS. Paper is. 6d. (Bell and Bradfute, Edinburgh.) "There Is not a page in the volume that is not freighted at once with poetry and moral inspiration. Jeanie Morison is one of the smgers of our time, whose vocation none may doubt." — North British Daily Mail. MISS M'GRAW: and SANDY IRVING'S CROFT. Tales. Cloth IS. (Religious Tract Society, London.) "This little book has been described as a 'perfect Scottish idyll.'" — Editor of the Religious Tract Society. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES PUBL THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES BY JEANIE MORISON WITH PREFACE BY PROFESSOR A; H. SAYCE OF OXFORD 5Lonl(on MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1887 T Ail rights reserved ■Zv h os- A< H'^it^ TO THE GUILD-MASTER ROBERT BROWNING, ' OUR EURIPIDES, THE HUMAN, WITH HIS DROPPINGS OF WARM TEARS, AND HIS TOUCHES OF THINGS COMMON TILL THEY RISE TO TOUCH THE SPHERES.' AND WITH HIM AS IS MOST MEET, TO HER MEMORY WHOSE NAME, ' NAMED SOFTLY AS THE HOUSEHOLD NAME OF ONE WHOM GOD HATH TAKEN EVER LIVES ENLAURELLED WITH HIS OWN. PREFACE There are books which need a preface, and there are books to which a preface is like a costly binding or sumptuous type. I think that the volume to which I am prefixing these few words of introduction belongs to the latter class. Its purpose may be read in every page ; the message it would deliver is no riddle that requires an OEdipus to solve. The thread that runs, through it is clear and distinct, and binds its several parts into a single whole. The divine education of the human race and of the individual within the race, the unity of God's dealings with man, is the central idea whose development forms the very essence of the poem. Faith that reveals itself in obedience and finally attains the perfect liberty of oneness with God is the instrument whereby that de- velopment is worked out. But man has a history, and it is therefore on the stage of history that his education has been carried on. If we would know how he has been fitted and prepared for the work to which we of the nineteenth century vill PREFACE believe he has been called, we must restore the past, not as in the unsubstantial images of a phantasmagoria, but in all its once-living reality. The task demands a poet, but a poet who is a historian at the same time. Our age is marked off from those that have gone be- fore it not only by the triumphs of material science but even, more by the recovery of the earlier history of the civilised world. Less than a century ago that history had been supposed to be hopelessly lost ; a few doubtful names, a few legends in which fact and fiction seemed strug- gling for the mastery, were all that was left of the ancient civilisations of Egypt and Babylonia. To-day all is changed. The buried cities of the past have yielded up their tireasures, their forgotten records have revealed their secrets to a mightier power than that of the magician, and not only the wars of princes and the sacred rites of priests, but even the daily life of the people, can be traced in clearest outline. From one point of view we may be said to know more of Egyptian life in the days of Ramses, the Pharaoh of the Oppression, than we do of English life in the epoch of the Norman kings. The marvellous revelations of Egyptian and Assyrian research have been made full use of in the following pages. The authoress has spared no pains to acquaint herself with the latest results of discovery, and to inspire them with that living spirit which comes of warm sym- pathy and poetic insight. The scenes amid which PREFACE IX Abraham and Moses were reared are not the stage-like creations of a fervid imagination ; they are scenes lighted up with local colouring, reflecting what we now know to have been the actual life and thought of the Babylonian or Egyptian of old time. It is Ramses himself who speaks to us, not the historian or rhetorician of a later age ; the Egypt over which he rules is the Egypt of reality and not of convention. Those who like myself are engaged in the thankless work of dissecting the languages of the ancient monu- ments and deciphering their tale, cannot be too grateful to one who puts life into the dry bones, and clothes them once more with flesh and beauty. The labours of the philologist and antiquarian may be useful and necessary ; but they need an interpreter before they can reach the mind and heart of the people of to-day or teach the lesson which the story of the past is intended to convey. A. H. SAYCE. AUTHOR'S PREFACE It only remains for me, in giving this triune poem to the public, to express my deep indebtedness and gratitude to Professor Sayce of Oxford, to whose most kind and careful revision of its Babylonian and Egyptian Archaeo- logical details I owe it that I can now offer it to the public with a confidence which hardly anything else could have given me, that, whatever its other merits or demerits, it is at least true (so far as our present know- ledge goes) to the life and surroundings of those dark and distant days. To my always kind friend Professor John Stuart Blackie of Edinburgh, to whose constant and unvarying kindness my literary work is so deeply indebted on every side, and to those other friends who in various ways have interested themselves in, and helped to forward my work, I should like also to return very grateful thanks. Edinburgh, December 1886. ' ' The life of Abraham is a vital part of that unique, coherent, and divine development which St. Paul calls ' the purpose of the ages ' (Eph. iii. II), whereby the book of Genesis is intelligibly- correlated with the Apocalypse through all the intermediate range of that sacred literature." — Tomkin's Tivies of Abraham. BOOK I FAITH [CHILDHOOD] 't T r TV;:"- T -•■•.-:■.*: Gen. XV. 6. Ur of the Chaldees^ Temple of Sin or Hurki, the Moon-god. 2 Invocation of the Amil-urgal,^ the priest appointed to watch for the rising of the Euphrates. " On the marshes the great reeds * are yellow, The tall reeds they thirst on the marshes, Over the river droop the plumes of the date palms. To drink of the river the high palms bow down, They cry to the river, To the great Chaldaean river, " Where hid'st thou thy waters, Euphrates life-giver ? Where hid'st thou thy waters, Euphrates bread-giver ? Hath Mummu ^ opened her mouth wide and swallowed thee? And hast thou returned to the womb of Tiamatu ? Have the great gates closed upon thee that in darkness are shrouded. The gates of the Great Deep ® from whence there is no return ? Hea,'' Lord of the Abyss, hath he drunk thy blood. Hath the husband of Davke made himself drunk with thee? 4 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES That thou comest not to rejoice the city of the Moon- god, The city of the god of the month Sivan of happy name. " To the temple of Uru behold I came quickly, To the shrine of the Great Lady and of the god Hurki ; By the great stair-case that pierceth to the heavens. By the thousand-stepped stair, have I climbed to their shrine ; At the hour of the setting of Samas ^ the Sun-god, At the hour when the great Son of Sin goes to rest ; I look abroad and I see thee not, O life-giving river ! I look forth yet behold thee not, Euphrates bread-giver ! Nought see I on the marshes but the great reeds all yellow. Nought but the great reeds that thirst on the marshes. "At the beginning of the month, at the rising of the night, . At the dawning of the second night of Nisan,^ Lo ! the horns of great Sin they break through in the heavens. In the high heavens of Anu ^^ his horns pierce the gloom ! From the Great Deep^^ as a bubble he ariseth at its boiling. From the black womb of Tiamatu comes the Light of the Night ! The curtains of his chamber draws the Maker of Bright- ness, From his curtains of cloud looks the great god of Ur ! He looks upon the marshes where the great reeds are yellow, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES s On the land that drank the river where the great reeds thirst, He saith, ' Where is the river, the mighty flowing river, Wherein I saw mirrored the crown of the Moon-god, The golden crown of Hurki, the Light of the Night ? Where are the deep pools that laughed in the marshes. The dark pools that mirrored me back my bright face ? ' " Call then O Lord of Crowns, ^^ Maker of Brightness ! Call then O Hurki, thou great god of Ur ! To the god of the river that dwells in Niphates, To Mer^^ the strong god, — bid him loosen the chain. Unbar the great gates that in darkness are shrouded, From the womb of the hills bid the glad river flow ; As the sound of Ur's chariots when they haste to the battle. As the trampling of horsemen that rush on the foe, Bid the noise of his leaping come afar from Niphates, O'er the rocks of the desert like the bound of the roe ! Then shall the children of Ur bring thee presents. The sons of the city bow down with their gifts. Then again shall the deep pools hold Sin in their bosom, From the pools of the marshes once more laugh his face ! " So chants the white-stoled Amil-urgal where The holiest shrine of Hurki's house looks down O'er the wide Chaldaean plains, on second night Of Nisan, as he metes with careful hand. And keen and watchful eye, the water's height In the great sacred tank, whose swelling marks Euphrates' first faint rise, afar, amid 6 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The wild Niphates rocks j and as again And yet again he metes, lo ! they have risen An hair's breadth, and he knows, afar, the chain That bound the mighty river is unloosed, And instant in great Hurki's highest shrine He lights the beacon-fire to gladden Ur. Forthwith from out bazaar and street there stream In joyous throng, the youths and maids of Ur, Bringing their gifts to lay before the shrine Of Hurki, the great Moon-god, where he sits Above Euphrates' flood. With dance they come, Garland and song, tinkle of silver bells From shapely feet, soft brown arms wreathing free In graceful threaded maze, and bright dark eyes Now glancing gamesome frolic, now, in love Soft languishing ; while bright-winged fire-flies Flit amid the boughs of drooping palms, And loud the ceaseless song of croaking frogs From the green river-marshes fill each pause Of Castanet and timbrel, and on all Looks down at full, Hurki's bright prototype. From the blue depths of Eastern star-sprent sky. Singing they come — " Hail to thee Lord of Crowns, Maker of Brightness ! Hail to thee Hurki, the great god of Ur ! From his tent he looked down in the heavens of Anu, From the curtains of night where Bel " made him king ! THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES. 7 At his glance swelled the heart of the great flowing river, At the kiss of the Moon-god Euphrates awoke ; Down from the mountains he skips like a he-goat, As a wild gazelle bounds o'er the rocks of Niphates ! The caverns of Ararat quake at his leaping, The young lions shake in their lairs in the marshes j As a war-horse that snorteth at noise of the battle, As the chariots of Ur when they rush on the foe, Is the swelling of the river, The rush of the niighty river. As he wakes at the kiss of Hurki and hasteth to his feet, To kiss the dear feet of the great god of Ur ! At the flow of the river, At the rush of the mighty river. The great reeds clap their hands, and the marshes laugh for glee, The black marshes yellow, and the yellow reeds bud, At the touch of the river. At the kiss of the mighty river, as it rolls on its way. Join in the dance ye maidens of Chaldee ! Throw the spear in his honour ye young men of Ur ! Go buy ye his image ye matrons of Chaldee, Bear home his blest signet ye old men of Ur, That each suckUng may bow at the name of the Moon- god, And each babe kiss the sign of the great god of Ur ! " So the bright night wears on, jocund with song. Round Hurki's shrine, as one, from out the crowd Of joyous revellers, steals lone. — ^Adown The river's bank, basking in moonlight, on. 8 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Thoughtful he strays, to where the place of graves Lies round the sleeping town, — Death's "^ mighty sea Compassing Life's small isle. A princely boy, Fair with all promise of the noble man ; The straight clean limbs beneath the white cloth shown That falls in easy folds of strength and grace, The open brow, gleaming 'neath broidered shade Of silken turban, and the candid eye. High glancing, earnest, — mark the chosen soul Formed for all deeds of loftiest emprise, — Abram, rich Terah's son, known to all Ur, Who made the mighty gods for Hurki's shrine,^^ And vends small Hurkis, dear to the devout, At centre booth of the great Market street. Among ^' the mounds piled high with sleeping dust. With swift and silent step he threads his way. Till at a palm trap-door, sunk in the mould And marked with Terah's name, he makes a pause. And pressing hidden spring the slab flies up. Showing below a narrow stair of brick, Where cautious he descends, until he stands. Deep underground, before a palm-tree door ; With key drawn from his robe, he opes, and lets Dim starlight glimmer from the upper world Invade the house of death. A vault "^ of brick Of curious art, each brick o'er-stepping each. Till at the top one singly fills up all The narrowed aperture. On the brick floor With reed-mat carpeted, on his left side A dead man lies, the right arm falling o'er THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The powerful chest, its bony fingers laid On copper bowl placed on the left hand's palm, For pillow 'neath the head a sun-dried brick ; Around the sleeper lie the gauds he loved, — The silver bangles worn since childhood's days, The drinking-horn of bronze, still filled brim-full With the sweet palm-tree wine, sweet-meats of dates On earthen platter placed within the reach Of that still hand of bone, around whose wrist Yet hangs, by silken cord, the cylinder Of meteor-stone, bearing his birth-god's sign. Ghastly the scene, by the dim glimmer shown Of distant moonlight, through the open trap That heads the narrow stair, — biit soon the eye Grown used to its dim twilight, half discerns. Half feels, a living presence stir within. That darksome house of death. Faint shudders pass Over young Abram's frame, but resolute He turns, to where in dimmest corner, — slow, — A ■'^ shrouded figure rises from the ground. " Is it the dead or living ? " low he asks, ' With lips that tremble. " Nay, the living, son," A voice replies, hollow and spectral as The shape, — ^half seen, — that stirs the darkness, — " Nor Vision, nor sign, great Hurki hath vouchsafed. Though seven times seven I have performed the rite Of solemn evocation." ^^ " Yet once more. My father, once again ! — Haran beloved. Thou who so joyed in the glad light of morn, — Ere I can quit the hope to call thy ghost 10 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Out from its darksome prison-house, to whose Realms of unfathomed blackness, e'en this tomb's Sad twilight were as paradise ! — To-night, Oh seer ! to whom great Hurki sendest dreams, I laid each coin of all my earnings on his shrine, — Mayhap to-night, in gladness of his heart. His ear will open to our cry, and bid Ea unbar the gates, that close the way. Where in the eternal sanctuary flow The waters pure of life, whereof who drinks. Escapes Irkalla's ^^ grasp, and reascends From the dread portals of the under-world Back to the warm bright day. — ^Yet once again, — And if this once — added to seven times seven, — Still nought avail, then shall I surely know That he who sits above Euphrates' flood With his Great Lady, is as deaf this day As was the basalt block from Araby Whence he was fashioned by my father's tools.'' " My son, blaspheme not mighty Hurki thus, Lest in his wrath he call thy brother's ghost Forth from the under-world, a vampire foul. To haunt thy tortured days." "Better e'en that. Than shut beneath the hatches of the world. Where thought is not, nor light. Once more, oh seer !" — And through the quivering gloom the seer's voice rose In rite of mystic evocation, — now Hollow and low, sepulchral as the tomb From whence it came, — now, swelling to a shriek Of agonised entreaty, as he writhed. In wild convulsions on the matted floor. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES ii " Ope like a bird thy wings O Hurki ! Spread like a bird thy wings ! To the house of darkness descend To the dwelling of the god Irkalla, To the house entering which there is no exit, To the road the course of which never returns, To the house in which the dwellers long for light, To the place where dust is their nourishment, and their food mud. Ghosts, like birds, flutter their wings there. Upon the gate and the gate-bars the dust lies undisturbed ; Command thou the keeper of the gates, O Hurki ! Speak thus to the keeper of the gates, ' Keeper of the waters open thy gates ! If thou openest not the gate I will strike the hinges, I will burst open the door, I will raise up the dead, devourers of the living, Over the living the dead shall triumph. If the doors of the eternal sanctuary thou dost not unbar. At the spring of the waters of life to slack his thirst That the demon of Haran may drink and revive. And like Ishtar ^^ escape from the dwelling of Ner, From the dark house of Ninigal flee away !' Give us a sign, O Maker of Brightness ! Give a sign to thy servants that thou hearest their prayer ; Like a bird of the night let his spirit pass over us. Like a bird from the thick darkness let his demon o'er- shadow us. That we may know that the dust-covered bolts are with- drawn, 12 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES That the bars of the prison-house of Ninigal are broken, and his soul fled away." Long time upon the mat of reeds he lay Prostrate before the god, while by the dead. Trembling, young Abram stood, — but sound nor sign Broke the dread silence of the house of death. Until the last faint starlight glimmer passed To gray uncertain dawn, and day's white light Fell broad and ghastly on the rotting corpse. Then the seer rose. " Nought it avails, my son, Great Hurki will not hear." "Then can he not — From this day forth I count no more of him Than of the porphyry block my father brought From Araby to fashion him ; — Haran Farewell." And kneeling by the dead, the boy Pressed once his lips upon the fleshless brow, And springing up the steps fled fast and far. II A Room in Terah's House Milcah, his wife, seated spinning. Enter Abram, who seats himself dejectedly in a corner of the room. " Great Hurki's blessing light upon thee boy ! Wherefore so sad ? Not thus should they return Who bear their grateful gifts to Hurki's shrine With dance and jocund song, that happy night, Second of Nisan, when great Sin looks down From Anu's heaven, and at one glance of his The strong Euphrates bursting from Vul's bands Leaps like a victor o'er the vanquished lands. Hast thou o'erdanced thyself? Thou comest late, Nahor and Sarai are three hours abed. Here, take this pillow, lay thee on the mat. Thy father's at the booth ; — rest thee, my son." " Nay, mother, nay, great Hurki scarce had passed His zenith ere I left the jocund throng That danced about his shrine, — weary I am. But not with dance or song." " What ails my son ?" " When Haran died, my mother, and we laid Out of our sight the son thou lovedst so well, Couldst thou endure the thought of him, — the young. 14 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The strong, the brave, the beautiful, — shut down Beneath the hatches of the under-world, Where thought is not, nor light?" "Nay, ask not boy, For these are thoughts we dare not think and live ! They who have passed to dread Irkalla's realm We think of but as babe that never saw The light, -^'twere madness else." "/could not so, My mother ; — since my Haran died, each night In dreams upon my bed I seemed to hear The voice I loved so well entreating me, In tones of anguish, to unbar the doors That shut his demon in, and set him free. Long time the vision haunted me, my days All darkened as with shadowing wings of death, And all the night I seemed to hear his shade Beating like prisoned bird against the bars Of that sad under-world, till I could bear No longer, and the thought of Izdubar,i Who won his Eabani back from dark Aralli, through great Ea's grace,^ possessed Me night and day. At last, I sought the seer Who dwells amid the tombs, my earnings all Since I had helped my father at the booth. Laid at his feet, so be't he could evoke My Haran's demon from the under-world ; Now seven times seven the nights that he hath watched With rites of evocation by the dead In Terah's tomb, and this the last." — " And what Befell?" "Nought, mother, nought! — the mouldering dead Still moulders on in peace, — no sound, no sign. No shadow from the rising demon's wing THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES ij Hovered the dark vault through, though seven times seven The nights he hath besieged great Ea's ear With rites of evocation — seven times seven The nights prostrate I lay in Hurki's shrine AVhere he and his Great Lady sit above The waters. Mother, — they nor list, nor hear. These gods we serve, more than the basalt blocks That strewed the desert ere my father's tools Shaped them as gods. — I worship them no more." " My son, my son, blaspheme not thus the gods ! Thy words -may bring worse woe on Haran's ghost." " Nay, mother, neither woe nor weal they bring, — The gods we worship are but stocks and stones ! — Nay, wring not thus thy hands my mother, nor Tremble at senseless blocks, — our gods are nought, Yet nought is changed, — our father loves thee still. Am I not still thy son ? — Our Haran sleeps As quietly as of yore, my mad hope gone. — I go to let my father from the booth." Scarce was he seated cross-legged on the mat Within the open booth, when to its front An old man came,^ to whom, with greeting meet For hoary head, low-bending Abram rose. " Be this the booth of Terah who makes gods ?" Quoth the old man with quavering voice, his limbs Propped tottering on his staff. " 'Tis so," the boy Replied, " What wouldst thou, sire ?" "I come, my son, Straight from the shrine of the great god of Ur, Hurki, of blessed name, unto whose feet I brought the first fruits of the wheat. Think ye 1 6 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES This year each ear yielded three hundred fold, For that the great god bade the river swell So high it covered every rood of land, And made the sterile womb of Anatu Teem as at touch of Anu ! 'Tis but just The first few sheaves were his, — and then, mayhap Next year, he'll bid the river swell again. My son Gungunu, (after me he's named). He dwells in Larsa, worships Samas now,* — For me, I am of Ur, and stick to Sin, The Moon-god ; — do the priests not tell,^ how he Swallows all Sansi's brood as soon as born ? And see we not Samas in Ann's heaven Ride lone each day, while Hurki leads each night His myriad offspring forth with dance and song ? — Gungunu's in the wrong, — best stick to god His father knew, and his father, and his. Ere since the name Gungunu was in Ur, And that's since Nimrod's days.^ — Look ye, we've brought Hurki the first wheat sheaves each year he gave A happy harvest since the Hunter's time, — And when the ears were scant or dates were few, Hurki it was we beat, and who but he ? Till he repented him and brought good days ; — See here his sign upon my cylinder,' Given at my day of birth full five-score years Agone. — But son, long is the way to go. And steep the stair-case of a thousand steps, For my old limbs to seek the happy shrine Where he and his Great Lady sit above The waters, so I come to Terah's booth THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES i; That I may take his image home, and there, Pray for good harvest and a plenteous flood. Fulness of dates and honey, — beat him too Mayhap, if plenty come not." " Five-score years, My father, didst thou say, markfed his sign Upon thy cylinder?" "Ay, ay, my son. Five-score and five years gone in his own month, Sivan of happy name. ' Happy the babe,' — So said the sage who cast my horoscope, — ' Thus bom within the blessfed month of Sin, Thrice happy he, as this, when first his horns. At rising of the night, break through to shine In heaven.' Therefore, no doubt, each year he floods My land. — Hast thou the image of the god, My son, or must I wait Terah's return?" " Here is his image, father, — five-score years Thou saidst." " Ay, five-score and five." " Thou seest This god ? Laban and Narain Sin, my father's slaves, Made him last night in five hours barely told, And thou wouldst bow thy hoary head, reverent With five-score years, to five hours' work of slaves !" " Is he not then the image of the god ?" "Ay, like as small pea is to large, to him That sits with his Great Lady in the shrine." " Why then I'll have him, five hours' work or no. Give me him in this basket. — What's his price ?" " Five shekels, father, one for each hour's work." " I'll give it thee, although the price be large. Bad luck it brings to chaffer for the gods." c 1 8 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Scarce had the old man gone, on feeble arm Bearing in wicker-basket his small Sin, When to the booth's front, pannier poised on head. One Edhirat, a grave-eyed woman, came ; " Thou hast within the blessed gods, my son ?" "I have within gods carved of wood and stone." " I come with gifts, my son, a humble gift Of the ripe date and first ears of the wheat. Such as befits a woman poor and lone. Yet grateful to the gods. — Wilt thou bear it Within ?" " Nay, mother, thou thyself shalt bear. Then shalt thou see how hungrily they eat it." " 'Tis too much honour, son, that I should look Upon the great gods' meal ; say not the priests They love not that our human eyes should see When they refresh them with the corn and wine?" " Fear not, good mother, many a day mine eyes Have looked upon their feast, yet nought befell." "Dare I then enter?" "Ay, in very sooth." Speaking, he oped a door behind the booth Into the inner chamber, where the gods Sat each upon his pedestal in state. Curious yet shrinking, Edhirat advanced. Prostrate with mouth in dust to lay her gift Before the feet of the great god of Ur ; Long thus she waited while the silence dured Voiceless as of the grave, — no movement stirs The stony face above the folded hands That stretch not for her gift, the sealed lips ope No whit to taste its sweetness, and the eye THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES ii Glares blankly stony still ; until at last, As minutes wax to hours, the stillness grows A terror in her soul, and darting forth Into the open booth, she clasped the skirt Of the young Abram's robe, crying aloud, " Hurki is angry, son, he scorns to taste The offering ! " " Try the Great Lady then," The boy replied, " Mayhap she'll prove more kind." " Nay, Sin were but more angry did I steal The offering at his feet. — He will not eat Mayhap till I be gone ?" " 'Tis very like !" " I fear, son, thou hast drawn his wrath on me, How may I supplicate his favour still?" And turning to the god with upraised hands And streaming eyes, anew before his feet She cast her down, praying in sob-broke speech. " O Lord who hast no equal in thy might ! O Hurki who art clad in robe of strength ! Of the hands that are lifted to thee take hold. Of the hands that hang down yet are raisfed to thee ; Upon thy hand-maid pour not out thy wrath, Curse not, O Hurki, Edhirat thy slave ! Turn not away thy face from her poor gift. Deign, Sin, to taste the ripe date and the wheat, Presumptuous though she laid them at thy feet. Presumptuous though she came within the shining of thy face; When thy slave is hidden from thine eyes let Hurki repent. Let his heart melt at her tears when he seeth her no more." 20 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES — Then rising from her knees she sought the door, " At even will I come again, my son, To wit if Sin hath deigned to taste my gift." Abram alone. " That will he not I wis ! Hath his cold stone The powers of warm quick life. — Can those eyes see Thy prostrate form, — those ears, my father's slave Carved from the senseless block, receive thy prayer ? Beats there a heart within that stony breast Throbs answer to thy pleadings ? Better far Bow down and plead unto the meanest thing That crawls upon the earth, so blest at least With the great mystery life, — with eyes that see, Though but the blade of grass that next impedes Its way, and shows, a mountain in its path ; With ears that hear, though but grasshopper's chirp ; With heart that feels, if only instant's dread Ere finger crushes it. Can life be gift Of no life ? That these hands have made, can it. At last turn of an endless whirligig, Have made the hands that made it ? Impossible ! Yet these my father's gods. The gods that first he makes then worships ! — Now will I put his faith in them to test !" And taking in his hand a hammer, left By last night's workmen, he, with mighty strokes, - To crumbling fragments dashed each hapless god, All, save great Hurki, ready for the shrine, Into whose stony hand he thrust the mell. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES A.nd left him towering lone above the wreck Of all his compeers ; — then himself awaits, In outer booth, Terah's return, — who comes, With cheerful greetings on his lips, ere long. " The blessings of the gods on thee, my son, How hast thou fared while I was gone ? Is aught Added unto the till ? " " Five shekels, sire, The old man Gungunu bought him was made By Laban yesternight." "That's well." "But, sire, Great mischief hath befallen." " How so, my son ? " " Thus it befell, sire, — widow Edhirat Did bring an offering to the godS of dates And first ears of the wheat, — the little gods began Forthwith to eat, when the great Sin did seize On Laban's hammer, struck with mighty strokes, TiU all the rest lay crumbled at his feet. Then ate himself the fresh dates and the wheat, — Lo, there he sits, the hammer in his hand ! " " Dost thou thus mock thine agfed father, boy ? Thou knowest well they neither move nor eat." " Yet dost thou worship them and wouldst I should ! " " Ungrateful boy, who eatest the gods' food. And yet deniest them worship ! — Hence, base dog, Who dar'st thus mock thy father's hoary head, Disgracest her that bare thee ! Hurki's curse Light on thee ! fill thy night with horrid dreams ! With pest let Itak and Dibbara follow thee ! ^ — Henoe to the desert ! — Never more call home The roof on which thine impious hands have brought The wrath of Hurki and the mighty gods'! " Ill Bahr-i-Medjif ^ A Jresh-water lake between ChaMaa and the AraUan Desert, sur rounded by high sandstone cliffs. Abram in a cave. " Alone, alone ! nought save the murmuring noise Of wavelets breaking on the shelving cliffs That skirt this inland sea. Shut out from home, A wanderer and an outcast, — woe is me ! Outcast with father's curse upon my brow That weights its youth as with a load of years : — No more to feel the old man's feebling step Supported on my arm ; no more to see The mother bustling at her household cares, Or hear her cheery ' Hurki bless the boy,' In large reward of some small service done ; No more to romp with little Lot, or list The pretty mimicry of speech that flows Like some small brooklet's prattle from his tongue ; No more beneath the palm-groves in the cool sweet eve. To stroll by broad Euphrates' placid tide, With Sarai hand in hand, — dearer than all, — Or watch with her the dying sunlight change The river's waveless bosom to a sea THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 23 Of glass and fire, that glows 'neath the wide heavens, One mingled mixt magnificence of flame, The while our hearts melted and mixt, as gold And purple blent in that strange mingled glory ; Or, when night's dews had quenched the sunset's fires, And paled the glory of the sea and sky To the cool calmness of its aftertime. Slowly to wander homeward hand in hand, — Its fading blush behind us in the west, — And see the lonely pelican stand out Dark on the land's far verge 'gainst the clear sky, And hear the heron's and kingfisher's wings Rustle toward their nest among the reeds. While round our path the fire-flies darted through The dark palm boughs, and far above our heads. The first faint timid stars shone out in heaven. — Instead, — nought but these shelving rocks wave-worn, — The solitary cry of some wild cat Or jackal, or the screech owl's bodeful voice That makes the night one horror ! — And for what ? — Because I would not bend the knee to stocks And stones, my father calls his gods, — nor e'en Keep peace, and let the senseless puppets be ! " — Was I so right ? Doth not a father's word Claim as its due, obedience of a son ? Wherefore could I not bow these stubborn knees In filial reverence to the senseless blocks That neither cou^d have wrought me weal or woe ? — And yet I dared not ; — though my heart half broke, I could no other ; — deep within my soul, 24 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Somewhat there was that braced my trembling knees With word of stern command, and said, ' Bend not To these.' — ^Whence came that inner Voice? — Not from My grief-torn heart, — that wooed with tears and prayers To the old easy path of complaisance That had healed all its pain ; — nor Reason's word, — She said, ' Why sacrifice life's solid good For thought-wrought fantasies ? ' — Yet aye that Voice, ' Kneel not, nor bend,' — and at its still command My tottering knees refused the mandate sent By wavering Will, and stood as adamant. — Whose was that Voice, stronger than Heart or Mind, Than Will itself, men call omnipotent ? Was it a warning from the very gods Wroth to be mocked by images of stone ? — Then who are they and whither do they dwell ? Have they no speech nor language in the world. That men may know their voice and worship them ? — This cave hath grown too narrow for my thought. Its stillness and its loneness stifle me ; — I will arise, — beyond these hemming rocks There hes a world, though but the desert lone." He scales the sandstone cliffs and stands in the Arabian Desert. " Darkness without, within ! these barren sands Stretch level and unbroke from sky to sky. Strewn ^ with black blocks, like monsters of the pit Writhing in mad convulsions through the gloom, — Nought else, save where some lonely date-tree spreads Gaunt arms athwart the darkness, like a weird THE PURPOSE^ OF THE AGES 25 And grizzly ghost. — Within, all darkness too, A moonless, sunless sky, circling a desert ; — No god ! no hope ! — The old familiar gods My childhood knew, to dusty atoms broke Of utter clay, and in their stead, mere night ■ And nothingness ; while in me, as without, Glower black and hideous monsters of the waste, And weird and ghastly arms athwart the gloom, Affright me in the darkness. "—Yet behold P E'en as I gaze, the darkness seems to grow Less dark, — the ghostly arms begin to lose Their mystery, and stand revealed as but The lonely date-tree's boughs, — the basalt blocks, That showed grim monsters of the under-world Writhing in agony, to moveless stone Return ; and now, in the far east, a streak, — One only first, and then, streak upon streak Of roseate glory, — till the eastern heavens Glow gold and purple 'neath the coming feet Of the great God of Day ! — Faint twitters first, — One knows not whence,, — of wakening life, stir sand And date-tree bough, waxing anon to one Great jubilee of song, while all around. The wild things of the wilderness rejoice, And e'en this waste of arid desert glows, To golden glory, 'neath the Sun-god's kiss ! " Is this not he, — the God I seek, — this Sun, The glory of whose face makes darkness day. 26 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Whose warm breath calls to life the myriad things That flit their little span in his bright rays, And quickens in dark womb of Mother Earth The small dead seeds that they shoot forth and bud ? Is it not he who stirs the torpid sap Beneath the bark of wintry reeds, and bids Spring's tender green re-clothe the naked land ? O Samas, great life-giver, art not thou The God I seek ? Lo I will worship thee ! " — And prostrate on the desert he adored The rising sun that had made all things new. The day rode on in brightness, and his heart Beat to the pulses of its new-born life, Rejoicing in its joy ; — but when the even Crept o'er the desert, and the setting orb With one reluctant, farewell, back-cast glance Of dying glory, sank beneath the verge Of the round level sands, and darkness fell, — As one amazed he stood. — " Not this is God," He said, " For he is gone and still I live. And all the wheels of the great world go round Though he is not. — I like not gods that set" Anon, the moon rose in her majesty, Walking in brightness 'mid the host of heaven. That shone so nigh it almost seemed a hand Outstretched might pluck them. — On his face, once more He fell upon the desert ; — like the surge Of some strong tide held back by stormy winds Awhile, then loosed,^— once more upon his soul THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 27 Surged back his childhood's faith. " This, this is he ! And all these shining hosts his ministers ! Not the dead basalt blocks my father carved, — They were but images and signs of him AVho reigns in truth in heaven ! Hurki forgive ! That thou so long wert lost behind the signs, That casting them aside I blasphemed thee ! So may I glad return to native Ur, And with my loved ones, hand in hand, yet seek Where thy great temple stands, and in its shrine, — Casting no glance upon my father's work, — Still lift my soul to him who shines in heaven. And from his throne of light ordain'st the fate Of us poor sons oT earth ! " — And yet, and yet — May it indeed be thus ? Lo, Hurki wanes ! Yet stands not still man's destiny, what time His eye rules not its woven cords ! — One must , There be who sets Samas and Hurki both Their times to rule, — One to whose law they yield Obedience proud, — Him must I seek and find. — Lo ! let me think. — Have I riot heard men tell, — Xisuthrus,* our great father, whom the gods So loved, they bore him with themselves to dwell ; — Ere yet the flood of waters drowned the world, By Kronos ^ warned, wrote on the sacred tiles All things from the beginning that befell ? — Mayhap these bear some record of the gods Long since forgot, — them will I seek. — Oh gods My soul, knowing not, yearns for, speed my way ! " IV The Great Library at Agane^ Ismi-dagoii, an old priest and astrologer, seated on the floor, poring over some inscribed tiles. Enter Abram. "Who comes with bold intruding step within This portal of the gods ? " " Pardon, great sire, A wandering youth who seeks through the wide world To know their secrets, — one from distant Ur, Hearing the fame of these most holy men, Who in Agan6 here, and Babel, con The great god's riddles to enlight the world, Fain that one ray from that most blessfed sun Should shine into his soul, he comes to thee. In outer darkness, groping for the light." " The quest is long, my son, and passing hard. And to the common mind boots little good, — Nought save long days of tedious search, and nights Wherein the sleepless eyes outwatch the stars. And still mayhap their riddles all unread ; — For the great gods hide deep their secrets. — Boy, Content thee with sweet light of common day The gods vouchsafe to all ; therein rejoice. And let the young glad heart within thee leap In warmth and brightness of man's common lot ; THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 29 About thy path be children, wife, and friends. Bring duly to the gods of thy first fruits, And joy before them in the dance and song ; — 'Tis all they ask, and 'tis enough for thee. Seek not the glory further that lies hid Far from the warmth and comfort of the day.'' " Great sire, I cannot, for to me there came, Within my father's workshop, where we made With our own hands the gods the people serve, A Voice which said, ' These be not gods, bow not To them, nor serve, seek me.' And from that hour No more could I rejoice in common day. But seek the Hidden Glory, — Source of all— And will seek till I firid." " Poor boy ! and what If thou shouldst never find ? " " Then will I die In seeking.'' " So resolved ? Think yet again, — Through horrors of great darkness must thou tread Seeking that Hidden Glory, and at last. Win for thy pains but sudden meteor flash Scarce seen ere swallowed back into the night." " For one glance of that Glory, holy sire, I stand to live or die. — How can I else ? — Nor do I quit for it the joy of life. For that is mine no more ; in dim eclipse, As when some shade sinister hides the sun, I walk among life's shadows sickly pale, In dismal twilight, till that Glory break Upon me froni its Source. Then, not till then, Will beam for me again, the light of day In warmth and brightness." 30 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES " So be it then My child ! I grieve me that thy young bright eyes So soon should lose their lustre, and grow dim Groping in darkness, — but for me 'tis well ; Thy fresh and hopeful youth mayhap may lend Some borrowed brightness to my days, worn old. And dim, and hopeless. I will teach thee, boy. The ancient mysteries, behind which hide In glory unapproachable, the gods ; Mayhap their hidden light may shine for thee. As ne'er it has for me — though sought how long ! " The same. Abram alone. " God ! what is God ? In Ur they worship Sin, The Lord of Crowns, Maker of Brightness ; here 'Tis Anunit ; ^ in Babel,^ Merodach, The old man of the gods, the Lord of Birth ; In Erech,* Anu, king of spirits ; Bel,* Lord of the world and father of the gods. In Nipur ; while Samas,^ Judge of heaven, rules In Larsa and Sippara ; — which is God ? If all be gods there is no God at all. But only rival potentates in heaven. As here on earth, who war each upon each, None proved the strongest. — Now 'tis Nipur wins. Led on by Bel, — now Anu's Erech, — now Great Babylon with Merodach for Prince ; — Who then is God among the gods ? Not one, For that god who is God indeed must needs Excel all other, stronger than them all. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 31 Almighty God, else not a god at all. — Let's see what more is here upon the bricks ; — Lo,' here it tells of Sin and Samas' birth ; — What god drew back the gates of the abyss, And caused the deep to boil, from whence arose Hurki * like giant bubble up to heaven ? He who drew back the mighty gates and called The Lord of Brightness from the nether deep, He must be Hurki's God,-^is it not so Since him Hurki obeyed ? — He too, — so say The bricks, — set Samas up on high — his God Then too, — and from the womb of Mummu drew ° This mighty world from empty nothingness. God of the gods ! I know not what thy name — — Here Ismi-dagon comes, the good old man. With his bowed form, and scanty hoary locks. And eyes, long hopeless search have made so dim. — " Good morrow, reverent sire, the Almighty God's Best blessings light on thee." " Good morrow, son. The great gods bless thee ! Hast found aught to-day Of import on the bricks ? " " My sire, I read The tale of Hurki and of Samas' birth ; — — But tell me, father, who was god before Hurki and Samas were ? " " Great Anu,!" son." " And who begat great Anu ? " " Sar, my son, And Kisar." " And who begat them, my sire ? " " From Tiamat and the Ancient Night they came With Lakhmu and Lakhamu ; ^^ — hear the tiles, — ' Their generation was the boundless deep. The Chaos of the Sea was she who bore 32 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES. The whole of them. Then was the flowering reed Not gathered, — the marsh plant was not grown, The gods not any one of them was born, By name they were not called, nor fixed was fate.' " " Then who is he who made this boundless deep, This Mummu Tiamatu whence the gods Sprang into being ? " " That we know not, son. None begat Tiamat, that ancient night And nothingness that reigned ere Nature was." " Then must I worship Tiamat, my sire, He who begat, himself the unbegotten. Greater than Anu since he brought him forth." " Nay, son, we worship not that chaos void And ancient nothingness, but rather him. First principle of order in the world. Who fought with Tiamat, ^^ and overcame. Great Anu and most blessfed Merodach." "Tell me, my sire, — beareth the wild briar figs? Grow dates on prickly pear ? Doth not each bear After its kind ? How then was Order born Of chaos of the deep, and all that is Of nothingness ? " "I know not, son, yet see We not their strife ? — Mummu and Merodach, Evil and Good, Chaos and Order, — mark The wavering fight, around on every side Rage still, nor see the end ? " — " Tell me, great sire. What is that sign upon thy cylinder, ^^ Two figures by a fruit-tree and by one A scaly serpent ? " " Son, an evil sign. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 33 Sign of all woe to men. — Hast thou not heard How Adam,^* the black race, through Tiamat's wiles, Took of the fruit forbidden of the gods. And how the great gods cursed them in their wrath ; — Bade knowledge work them ill, quarrels to breed, Oppressions flourish, pain torment the frame. And sorrow sap the mind, their labour bring Not forth its fruit, till they are dead whose hands Should garner it, — and still to disobey And stiU be punished?- — Such our evil case." " Is there no remedy ? " "I know not, son ; — The tablets tell how the great Merodach, Armed with his sickle-shapfed sword, ^^ went forth And fought the dragon Tiamat and won ; — Yet the gods' curse abides on Adam's race. They sin and sorrow, sicken still and die.'' " Are there none then who have obeyed and live ? " " Ay, son, the great Xisuthrus ^^ in whose days The flood befell. He walked uprightly And feared the gods, wherefore they bore him hence, Beside the rivers' mouths with them to dwell, When the great flood was stayed. — How run the tiles Of that great tale he told to Izdubar ? i'' " ' — Thus spake Xisuthrus — " ' Lo, I will reveal My story and the judgment of the gods ; The city Surippak,!^ — the town thou know'st Which on Euphrates stands, — ancient the town. The gods within it dwell. — To make a flood D 34 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES There the great gods resolved, e'en he, Anu Their father, and their king the warrior Bel, Ninip their throne-bearer,^^ and Hades' Lord '^ Hea, — his wife Nin-si-kha with them sat ; ^^ Unto his minister then Hea told The great gods' will, he heard, and thus proclaimed, " Ubaratutu's son,^^ Surippakite, Make thee a mighty ship, therein enclose The seed of life." Then Samas spake and said, " Lo ! in the night Samas will make a flood ; Enter into thy ship and shut thy door." " ' Rag-mu-seri-ina-namari ^^ then As black cloud from the heaven's horizon rose, — In midst thereof thundered the mighty Mer,^* — Nebo ^^ and Saru ^'^ went in front, — o'er plain And mountain-top the great throne-bearers strode, — Nergal ^^ the strong destroyer overturned, — Ninip in front cast down, — Earth-spirits bore ^^ Destruction, they with terror shook the earth. The flood of Rimmon reached to the stars,^^ The darkened earth to watery waste was turned. From off her face were swept all living things ; The raging deluge o'er the people rose To heaven, — brother saw not his brother, — men Knew not each other. " ' In high heaven the gods The whirlwind feared and refuge sought, — unto The heavens of Anu went they up, — like dogs The gods lay prostrate fixed in droves. — Then like THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 35 A child the goddess Ishtar spake, " Behold ! As mother I begat my people, now- Like to the young of fish they fill the sea ! Because of the Earth-spirits with me weep ' The gods, on seats of lamentation set, Their lips are covered for the coming ill." ' ' ' — Six days and nights passed ; wind, whirlwind, and storm O'erwhelmed ; — upon the seventh, at its approach The rain was stayed, the raging whirlwind that As earthquake smote the earth, was quieted ; The sea began to dry, the wind and storm Were ended. — Then made the sea a tossing, — I looked, and lo ! all mankind turned to clay ! — Like reeds the corpses floated. — Then oped I The window and the light broke o'er my face, — It passed, — grieved I sat down and wept, and o'er The fortress of my nostrils flowed my tears ! — I watched towards the boundaries of the sea. Towards all the compass-points there was no land. " ' Then on the land of Nizir stayed the ship,^" The mount of Nizir stopped the ship, — pass o'er It could not ; — the first day, the second day. The mount of Nizir stopped the ship, third day. Fourth day, the mount of Nizir stopped the ship, Fifth day, sixth day, the mount of Nizir stopped The ship, — the seventh day, at its coming, I Sent forth a dove.^^ — The dove went, — it returned, — A resting-place it did not find ; — I sent A swallow forth, it went — and it returned, — 36 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES A resting-place it did not find ; — I sent A raven forth, — the raven went, — it saw The carrion on the waters, — it did eat, — It swam, it turned away, it came not back. " 'Then to the four winds forth I sent all life, I sacrificed a sacrifice, I built An altar on the mountain's ziggurrat.^^ Seven vessels placed I by, in them I spread Reeds, pines, and juniper ; — good savour smelt The gods, — the sacrifices o'er gathered The gods like flies, — also at her approach. Uplifted from afar, the goddess great, Ann's ^^ bright arch, he for his glory made. " ' Then Bel arose, into mid-ship he came. My hand he took and caused me to ascend, My wife he raised and joined unto my side, A covenant he made. " Mortal before Was Adrakhasis, now, he and his wife At place remote beside the rivers' mouths To live as gods are carried to dwell.' " ' — 'Tis thus 'tis written on the tiles, my son." " My father, Adrakhasis whom they loved. Did he not know the secrets of the gods ? Left he no record ere they bare him hence. That on the new-washed earth, a race unborn. Might walk as he, uprightly in their sight ? " " Ay, son, ere the flood came he hid, hard by. At Sepharvaim, the city of the Sun,^* • THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 37 The sacred tiles, and as he vanished, ^^ His voice, men say, came borne upon the air Bidding to, search for them, and teach mankind. — 'Tis this same lore we con to-day, and seek Therein to read the riddles of the gods." " Why speak they thus in riddles, oh my sire ? To Adrakhasis they spake face to face, Bade him to build a ship, taught him the way ' How he should walk with blessing in their sight. — My father, I have conned these tiles when night Wrapt all the world in sleep, and when the day Called me with joyous voice in vain, — and lo ! The darkness grows but deeper. — Thou thyself, My father, — saidst thou not 'twas but to grope In darkness for a light scarce seen ere fled ? May it not be, hard by, at Sepharvaim, Some tile still lies, the key of all the rest ? It will I seek, my sire, and if I find, How glad will I bear back the blessfed news To thee ! " • — Sadly he shook his hoary head. Old Ismi-dagon : " Go, my son," he said, " The great gods speed thy quest, my quest is o'er ; — If thou return, seek me in Babylon, There in the shrine of blessfed Merodach,^^ — He who hath died yet ever liveth, — would I end my days, — there shalt thou find me ;— yet Somewhat there is that whispers, ne'er for me Those blessfed tidings. — Fare thee well, my son." A High -PLACE outside the Walls of Sippara Abram standing beside the Sun-god's column which crowtis it. A procession of priests issuing from the Temple of Samas in the town below, singing. " The head of the child for his own head^ The brow of the child for his own brow. The breast of the child for his own breast ; The head of the child for his own head. The brow of the child for his own brow. The breast of the child for his own breast ; — So may the Sun-god pardon the sin of Marturda, Let his offering's sweet savour fill the nostrils of Samas ! — Not with the blood of the ram or the bull, — The sin of Marturda is purged with his heart's blood, The fruit of his body for the sin of his soul. " Smell it, O Samas, great god of Sippara ! Let the smoke of its incense arise up to thee ; As Bel ^ gave in Nisan, Yedud the Belovfed, The son of his heart's love that troubles might cease, And the first month on earth, and the first sign in heaven. Are the month and the sign of the ' Offering of Bel.' THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 39 The head of the child for his own head. The brow of the child for his own brow. The breast of the child for his own breast ; The head of the child for his own head. The brow of the child for his own brow. The breast of the child for his own breast.^' So sang the white-robed priests, as slowly wound Their long procession from the temple-porch, The Sun-god's ^ lofty ziggurrat, of old, Ligbagas, King of Ur, had built. In midst, Aloft, they bare a flower-decked throne, whereon, Beneath a canopy of broidered gold, There sat a lovely boy. Six summers scarce Had shed their bloom, since first his brown eyes oped With their clear wondering light, in old Earth's face, And laughed back at her in the golden glow Of dawn. As though it loved them, the warm air Toyed with his chestnut tresses, all unshorn And lily-crowned, and wafted from the flowers Soft perfume, while the wondering eyes, fearle'ss And innocent, gazed all around, well-pleased With his great holiday. — Behind the child, — Alone and silent, with a low-bowed head Bared to the noon-day sun, — Marturda came ; — ^On the bent face, fierce anguish struggled, while The pallid lips, quivered, but gave no sound. Through the long street they passed, and at each door A votive offering of fresh flowers and palms Made one long flowery carpet for their feet, 40 THE- fURPOSE OF THE AGES While, in their rear, a throng in festal garb Followed, with garlands for the sacrifice ; — Still singing, on they came,— through the town's gates. And up Euphrates' bank, until they reached The knoll whose brow * the Sun-god's column crowned. And by its side the tree of Anunit, -^ — Half-hid behind whose shade, younjl Abram caught A glimpse of fluttering raiment, suddei^ stirred. As sudden lost to view. yOn, on, they came. Their bodeful chant still ringing through the hush Of noontide's heat that wrapped each bird and bee, And all the joyous hum of insect life. " The head of the ■child for his own head, The brow of the child for his own brow, The breast of the child for his own breast." Nor paused till they had reached, where rose, massive And grim, the Sun-god's ancient stone, — 'neath it A low rude altar, built of unhewn stone. With faggofs piled ready for sacrifice. In order filed the white procession round The hoary pillar in a triple ring. And in the midst, upon the tender sward Just budding with the river's overflow, They set the flower-decked throne, and chanting still, The chief-priest lifted from his flowery nest The wondering boy, and laid him on the wood. Binding with cords unto the altar's horns The childish rounded limbs. — When, hark ! a cry THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Rang through the stillness of the noontide glare, Drowning the priestly chant ! — from 'neath the tree Of Anunit, swift glimmer of white robes, And through the triple ring of guarding priests, Straight to the altar, broke a mother's love ! — 'Twas but a moment, and they bore her back. Ere her hand touched her boy, and louder swelled The bodeful chant, to drown her woman's shriek ; " The head of the child for his own head, The brow of the child for his own brow, > The breast of the child for his own breast." As, heaping first the little form with flowers, Deep in the baby bosom sank the knife ; — And clang of cymbal and of trumpet rent The astonished heavens, and incense filled the air. While round the altar curled the flames' fierce tongues, Licking up all, — piled faggots, shrivelling flowers. And sweet untainted life, in fell embrace, — And from high heaven the noontide Sun looked down. And drank the sinless blood his votaries spilt. As stricken deer, with arrow in its side, Young Abram turned and fled ; — deep pity wrung His heart, the while, horror and anger strove. Within his soul, and dried the blinding tears. — Many the toilsome days that he had searched In all Sippara for the hidden tile. That might, perchance, illume with light divine Old Ismi-dagon's mystic lore, wherein, In clouds and darkness, from all human eyes, 42 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The gods enshrouded them, — sought all in vain ; — And now, this unknown horror in their name ! Sadly he wandered by the river's brink. Unconscious as the noon faded to eve, Till the soft twilight fell, and wrapping close His mantle round, he laid him down, beneath A grove of palms, through whose broad fronds, the moon Shed silvery light as in a sanctuary. While with day's pain outworn, deeply he slept ; — And in his sleep a dream, vivid as sight. — In a great town he seemed to stand, high-walled With earthen ramparts, wherein rose a tower In stages seven, over its door, a star. Great Ann's symbol.^ He had seen before. The city with its ancient walls and streets, Erech, the Hunter's Capital,^ where once, With Terah he had halted on his way To the great desert, for new basalt blocks ; — He knew the temple too,— Bit-Anu,'' place Of Anu, where, with Nana,^ Anu reigned. — Then in his dream he saw, — without the walls. In grove of palms, such as he slept beneath, With gleamings of bright water through its shade, — A low-roofed dwelling, from whose open door Arose an ancient man to greet him. Bowed His head with rolling centuries, grand with Their weight of years and wisdom, — sunk his eyes. Yet deep and searching shone. — " Co7ne to me, son, And I will tell thee of Xisuthrus' god." THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 43 — The words seemed whispered through his dream, and then The boy awoke, to find the dim night past. And all around the twitter of new life, And dewy glitter of the wakening morn. — " I will arise and go to him," he said, " He hath the secret of the mighty gods." Onward he journeyed through the sultry day. Through the cool eve, and when night shone with stars ; — ^At next day's dawning light, great Babel lay Before him. — Temples, towers, and palaces. All hazy bright in morn's translucent- air. As city of a dream ! — Babylon past. Next high Birs-Nimrud ® reared its ruined tower Of seven stages to the planets seven. In diverse hues, — he marvelled that it stood A ruin on the plain, — yet lingered not, Nor paused,— save for brief snatch of needful rest, — Until before him rose his journey's goal, — Erech's great earthen ramparts, and within, Bit-Anu's shrine, over its gate, a star. The mighty door stood open, and the chant Of many voices sounded from within. And entering he saw the white-robed throng Of Ishtar's priests and priestesses, who praised With song and mystic rites the Queen of Love ; — And thus their chant fell on his listening ear. " When Ishtar 1° the lady to Hades descended. 44 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES From the hart fled the hind, from the bridegroom the bride, From his commanding ceased the freeman, From her obeying ceased the slave. " Then tore his robe the great gods' minister, Papsukul, His face he lacerates before them, And with rapid words he spake ; Weeping before his father went Samas the Sun-god, To Hea the King's presence he went in tears. ' Since Ishtar the mother to Hades descended. From the hart flees the hind, from the bridegroom the bride. In his commanding fails the freeman, In her obeying fails the slave.' " In wisdom of his heart then pondered Hea, And Addusu-namir the sphynx, he made ; ' Go, Addusu-namir, towards Hades set thy face, Before thee may its seven gates be oped : When Nini-gal the queen to meet thee comes. Then thou shalt awe her with the name of the great gods ; When calmed shall be her mind and spent her wrath, Prepare thy frauds, from empty vessel bring The fishes of the sea. — Then at these things Shall Nini-gal the queen astonied be. To Ishtar she her garments will restore.' " When Nini-gal the Queen of Hades heard, She beat her breast and her two hands she wrung. She turned her round and comfort would not take. To her attendant Simtar gave command, ' Go, Simtar, and the Hall of Judgment deck. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 45 The stone slab with the pa-stone shalt thou press, Bring forth the ghost and seat on golden throne, O'er Ishtar pour the waters pure of life And to me bring.' " Then forth went Simtar, he Pressed with the pa-stone, forth the spirit brought And seated it upon the golden throne, O'er Ishtar, he, of life the waters poured, and let her go. — At the first gate she passed, he gave to her her body's cloak ; At second gate she passed, he gave to her The bracelets of her hands and of her feet ; At the third gate she passed, he gave to her The binding girdle of her waist ; At the fourth gate she passed, he gave to her The fine jewels of her breast ; At the fifth gate she passed, he gave to her The necklace of her neck ; At the sixth gate she passed, he gave to her The earrings of her ears ; At the seventh gate she passed, he gave to her The great crown of her head. " When Ishtar the lady from Hades ascended, The hart sought the hind, the bridegroom the bride. No more from his commanding ceased the freeman. No more from her obeying ceased the slave." The voices ceased, and from the temple porch. As the foul orgies of the feast began, 46 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Sadly young Abram turned. " Where shall I find 'Mid these polluted revellers," he thought, " Him who shall tell me of Xisuthrus' God ? " Out from the city's gate he passed again, And sought once more the broad Euphrates' bank. Slow wandering down its stream, — till in a bend That hid it from his view till face to face, — • Sudden, there rose his palm-grove, and within. Nestled the low-roofed dwelUng of his dream ! With trembling knees he entered, and before Him stood, in the low door, the ancient man. Low bowed the boy in reverence, till his lips Kissfed the dust ; kindly the ancient man Raised him and spake, in a deep voice that seemed To sound from long-gone ages. — " Welcome, son ; In nightly vision I had news of thee, — Thou seek'st the living God, — Him whom we name Not, — hidden now and lost behind creatures His hands have made. — Yet is a remnant left,-'^ — E'en here in Erech, where the bestial rites Triumph the most, of Nana and her loves, — Who^^ know the Hidden Name and worship Him." " Yea, father. Him I seek, — for that I left My father's house at Ur." " I know it, boy, 'Twas shown me in a vision of the night. — Enter, my son, fresh dates and palm-tree wine Are on my frugal board, — first must thou eat. And then, — nature refreshed by His good gifts, — Beneath my palms, beside the flowing stream. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 47 Sit thee and rest, and learn what old Shem knows ^^ Of Him, — the One, — the Unsearchable, — whose hand Made earth and heaven, the moon, the sun, the stars, — All that men worship in the place of Him. For I am he men call old father Shem, The last alive of them who saw the flood, And knelt with Noah on the new-washed earth. When rose the smoke of his thank-offering. And heard with him the voice of God that said, — MTiile all the sky was spanned with His bright arch, — ' Lo, in the cloud I set my bow for sign That never more my flood shall drown the world. But while the earth remains, in season due Return, summer and winter, cold and heat. Seedtime and harvest, never more to cease.'" They entered the low door, and eagerly, The boy ate the fresh dates and drank the sweet Palm-wine, — for long his fast, and travail sore, — E'en more of mind than body, — had outworn The vigour of his youth ; — and now the rest His troubled soul so longed for, come at last ! And the old sage looked on, with ghstening eyes. At this young neophyte who sought for God. Beneath the palms upon the river's bank They sat the livelong day, while the old man Told his young scholar of his father's God. " I know not, son," he said, with eyes tear-dimmed, — When the long tale of man's forgetfulness Of Him who gave them all, was told, — " how long 48 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES He will have patience still, nor how His name, — His, the Unsearchable, — ^can live amidst Men who with bestial rites bow down to serve The Queen of Heaven. — /know not, but God knows, And sure His promise stands, — ' The woman's seed Shall bruise the serpent's head ' ; — and, boy, it seems To my fast dimming eyes, like olive-branch Of hope our dove brought back from the wild waste Of waters, that one fresh young soul hath come. Ere Shem's old eyes have closed, seeking for God." VI The Outer Court of the Temple^ of Merodach AT Babylon Before dawn. Abram alone, Lo, once again I seek the sage's shrine, As once before I sought, how full of hope, And left how sick at heart with hope deferred ! Now to return with the o'erbrimming joy Within my soul, of hope's unhoped fruition ! — ^A friend who speaks with me the God who made ! — How will my Ismi-dagon's lore-tired eyes Glisten to hear it ! How his search-worn soul Will lay it down within the circling arms Of Him, the Unsearchable, he sought so far. And all the while so near ! — The dawn breaks slow, — — In my glad haste to bear the joyous news I could not wait the morn, — but yon bright streak. Far in the East, foretells the coming day ; — So on thy morning slumbers, sire beloved. Rest some bright glory streak, the harbinger Of the great day that breaketh for thy soul ! — See, yonder comes his neophyte, who sweeps E so THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The temple courts, arid feeds the midnight lamp, When the old sage transcribes from heaven's great book Its records on the tiles, wherein men read Their own small destinies, within the world's Great fate. — " The great gods bless thee, boy ! So soon Astir ! Is it a feast, and must the temple courts Be decked ere break of day ? Or hath the sage Outwatched the stars, and not till the last shred Of night's great scroll is rolled for coming day Hath let his lamp burn dim ? — What ails thee, boy, That the quick tears start to thine eyes. The sage Is well?" " Alas, alas, young master, so He longed to see thy face, and thou art come, — — But all too late for him ! Dying he lies. Since yesternight he knows us not, we watch But the last flicker of Ufe's feeble flame Ere it goes out in darkness." " Oh my sire ! And in my heart, and on my lips, the words Should change thy dark to day ! — Lead me to him." Through the dim empty courts sadly he led. Up the broad temple-stairs, and on, until, By narrow winding steps, they reached the tower. Whence many a year, old Ismi-dagon's eyes. With wistful gaze, had conned the midnight sky. There now, — his window open to the East, With its first dawn-streak, — by his side the lamp, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 5 So long had shone to light his nightly toils, Its oil all spent, burnt dim and low, — dying He lay, alike unheeding of its flame Flickering to death, and of the breaking day. With passion of wild weeping Abram clasped The thin cold hand, and on the death-dewed brow His tears fell like the rain, while in the ear, — So sealed by coming death, — he poured the news Of Him, — the Unsearchable, — found now at last. The dim lamp flickered down, down to its end, — The breath grew short and shorter, — but behold ! — Were the sealed ears unclosed, or has he found, By death's dark road, Him^whom he sought so long ? — As the last spark went out, and the last breath Sighed into silence, o'er the still cold face Passed flickering smile, — and Day broke in the East. Sadly and slow young Abram turned away, Within his heart the new-found joy quenched down. All its bright glory fled ; scarcely he felt As if his death-chilled soul, cared for itself To taste the joy that came too late for his ; And yet, — that parting smile that lingered still In solemn glory on the wrinkled brow ; — — Awe-struck he stood, — yea, the Long-sought was found. He could not doubt it, — though by other path Than he had marked for him. — Softly he bent And kissed the smile-crowned brow, — low murmuring, " Well done, this my first mission, oh my sire ! 52 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES For God, not I, hath done it ; — now the next j — Back in the home at Ur, amid my kin To spread the blessfed news. — So, fare thee well ! — Nor will I e'en abide to see thee laid By Marduk's ■'• Place of Rest, — for he is nought, — — ^Yet is it fitting spot, and symbol meet. By him men call the Risen, to await Touch of the Ever-living ; — rest, my sire." Homeward he bent his footsteps, and his heart Burned in him as he went, and all too long Stretched the weary miles, till he should tell In Ur the joyful news. — To Terah first, Milcah, Nahor, and Sarai, best beloved, — — And e'en to little Lot, that they, his heart Held dearest, first might share its joy, — and then, Abroad to all, — like God's glad sunshine, — spread The blessfed news, till not a soul in Ur But should rejoice in the Long-sought, now found ! At last, before him rose, across the plain. The well-known Tower, Hurki's great ziggurrat ; — He saw the river broadening to the sea, Whose every nook, in all its shelving banks, Teemed with its memories of childhood's joys. Youth's love and hopes, and thoughts and imagings And that last sorrow too, that sent him thence A homeless wanderer ; — and now the joy. Thus to return and bless the dear old home ! — Ah, never in his mind the thought awoke, That on his God, his Ur might turn its back. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 53 Preferring stocks and stones men-fashionbd, — And all the Host of Seaven, — to Him who made ! Even had fallen, when he stood once more Before the well-known door, and heard, within. The busy whirring of his mother's wheel At work among her maidens ; each heart-throb Seemed as 'twould choke him, as he raised the latch, And stood again within his childhood's home. — One cry of joy, and Milcah fell, weeping Upon his neck, while little Lot clung fast To his robe's skirt, with shouts of childish glee, And Sarai stood beside, — her fair flushed face Radiant with smiles and tears, — and maidens all, — Their spindles quite forgot, — with clamour glad Greeted the wanderer home. — Terah alone. Held back with frowning brow, as at his feet In lowly homage Abram knelt, and prayed The blessing still withheld. — " Bless me, I pray, Me, even, oh my father, for I bring Glad news to Ur ! Lo, the Long-sought is found ! And happy Ur no more shall bow the knee. To gods we make, but to the God who made. For I have found Him, father, — seen old Shem Who heard Him speak with Noah at the Flood, And tell how He had set His bow in heaven. His covenant with men. Wherefore no more, Oh father ! may we serve these gods of stone That hear not when we call, — nor yet bow down 54 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES To Hurki and Heaven's Host, — but worship Him Who made. — For I have heard Him, father, /, Unworthy as I am. He speaks with me ! — And I will teach thee, and my mother dear, Sarai, and little Lot, ay, and all Ur, That they may worship too the living God." " Nay, impious that thou art ! or art thou mad ? — Soon shall we see, — ^the morrow comes to Ur Kudur-Lagamar,^ King of Elam, — he Who rules from Susa all the conquered land ; — He shall be judge betwixt us ; — at the gate To-morrow shalt thou stand before the king ! " Upon the morrow, — ^when at Ur's great gate, Kudur-Lagamar, King of Elam, sat, — — By him Eriaku, who ruled, viceroy Of Larsa, — and around, a swarthy throng Of Susian ^ officers behind their seat ; — Before * them, as they sat in judgment, came Terah with Abram, falling on his face. And from the king, judgment upon his son Besought, who dared deny his father's gods, And break their images. Then with a frown The Susian monarch spake : " Bring hither him. That impious, who defies his father's gods ! " Prostrate upon the dust before the king. Young Abram made reply, " Hear me, my lord, Oh king, and from thy servant hide not, great My lord, thy favour which gives Ufe ! The gods THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 55 My father serves are basalt blocks his hands Have carved, and images of clay his slaves Have fashioned ; eyes have they yet see not, feet Yet run they not, mouths have they yet eat not, Noses yet smell they not, hands yet touch not ; How can I, oh great king, bow down to these?" " Then be thou like to me and worship Ba'al, The mighty King of Fire, First Principle Of all that lives." " But there is that, oh king, That quenches fire, and so must be more strong ; — May I not pray to Water that o'ercomes The power of Ba'al ?" " Pray, then, to mighty Vul, God of the earth-refreshing rain." " Hear me. Oh king ! what holds the rain, must be than rain More great ; — may I not worship Clouds that hold The rain?" "Pray, then, to Clouds." " Hear once again, Oh king ! for there is that more strong than clouds ; — May I not pray to Wind that drives the clouds?" " Pray, then, to wind." " Be not wroth, oh my king ! That not to wind, or cloud, or rain, or fire. May I bow down to pray, — but unto Him Who made them, who made me, ay, and made thee. Oh king ! — who spake to Noah, and who speaks To me, — Him only may I serve, oh king !" " Then let him taste the power of mighty Ba'al, — Him whom he holds the least, — and see if He, He serves can save him from the King of Fire ! " And,5 at a signal from the king, they seized. And binding, led him where a furnace flame S6 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Darted its fiery arrows to high heaven. Bound hand and foot they cast him in, but lo ! The fiery arrows sank, arid in their stead Bloomed garden fair of roses, and the boy Walked with a smile, unshackled in their midst ! Then all the people shouted, " Live the God That Abram serves ! " — And troubled in his soul, The king, bade his slaves loose, and let him go. Home Abram went rejoicing, for he thought, " Now with glad hearts my people will believe In Him who saved me from the fiery death ! " — And Him fair Sarai loved, and little Lot, Their young fresh souls melted with gratitude ; —More slowly, too, Terah and Milcah came To worship Abram's God, though but at first An added deity, while still they bowed To Hurki and Heaven's Host. — Silent the rest. Daring no more to scoff. — And years went by. And Abram taught in Ur's great market-place. And people came, — and heard, — and went their way Back to their gods, — and Hurki reigned in Ur ! VII A TENT 1 UNDER THE OAKS OF MaMRE, NEAR HeBRON Abraham, an old man, stretched on a bed. Beside him Isaac, Enter Ishmael. " Come hither, brother, lo, the old man's mind Is busy with the past ! — But now I heard Murmurs of mother's name, Haran, and Lot, — Now Hurki's Tower on broad Euphrates' bank, — Now selling images in Terah's booth At Ur ; — as though before the age-dimmed eyes, That scarce may read our faces, were unrolled The Past's long scroll. — Hark ! now he speaks again.'' " His voice came to me when we dwelt in Ur, ' Get thee from country, kin, and father's house. Unto a land that I will tell thee of; ' And we arose and came, — the dear old man, Sarai, and Lot, and I. — The men of Ur They would not hear, or turn them from their gods. But hated us and would have had us build A sanctuary ^ to Hurki on our ground, — And power was with them. — Then His guiding voice Came to me in the night, and we obeyed. 58 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES — 'Twas hard to leave the old familiar home, — Hardest for him, — for he must leave behind Haran's ^ and Milcah's grave, my mother's too, T scarce remember, but he ne'er forgot, His wife of youth — and all his life-long hope, In Ur's great City of the Dead to sleep, Gathered unto his fathers, — yet he came ; — Though not to him God's promise as to me. — Therefore it was, mayhap. He bade us halt Upon our journey, ere we crossed the flood. That honoured in the gate we still might dwell. Till the old man had closed his eyes in peace. " — A second home,'' — another life than Ur's ! Purer and freer than her busy mart Whose ships sail every sea, and men of speech Unknown and diverse hue throng in her streets ! — Here, where the mountain-plain spreads circleless. Its patches of bright flowers and pastures green A dwelling-place of flocks, and maidens go And water them at even, and all is peace. Freedom and rest ; — and flocks and herds increased And men and maids, — and Nahor ^ came And Milcah, — and although the Kharran ® men Still call the blue star Mercury, — the sun's Envoy, Sul-khab-uddu, — their prince, and build Temples to Hurki and the starry Host,- — Yet 'twas a place of rest ; — and years went by, — And '^ Kharran grew a name dearer than Ur, — Till ^ Terah died ; — and as he might not sleep In Haran's grave, Nahor and I, in tomb THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 59 Rock-hewn, laid him at Oorfa. — Then the Voice, — God's guiding voice, — came in the night once more, — ' Get thee from country, kin, and father's house. Unto a land that I will show thee.' — Where /know not, but God knows. — Yea, lead, my God, I follow. — Strike the tents 1 — gather the flocks ! — At morn we cross the flood, and turn our face Toward ^ unknown Martu and the Sunset Sea. " — Yonder's ^^ Aleppo ! — From the city's gate Look how the sons of Heth come thronging forth Ere break of day, for promised milk of herds Before the morrow's march, and call on all Their gods to shield and bless the stranger sheikh That feeds their poor ! " — Ay, and look, yonder sits Fairest ^^ Damascus like a flower-crowned queen ; — The orange-groves scent the sweet-laden air ! — ^Yon's Haran of the Pillars, that I reared Beside my well, and named for him Whose grave is lone at Ur. — Dost see yon cleft Sheer in the black rock's creeper-festooned face. In wild ravine of Anti-Lebanon ? — 'Twas there I made my sanctuary for prayer ; And when the sun was down, — far from the voice Of shepherds, or of maidens at the well. Or tinkling bell of slow home-wending sheep, — Thither I came, alone to speak with God, Nor home returned till stars shone bright in heaven, — About me, as a robe, the peacefulness. Of that high Presence-Chamber of the King. 6o THE PURPOSE OP THE AGES " — Long time Damascus held us, for I brought To these, mine unknown kinsmen, needed strength 'Gainst Canaanitish foes ; — and many sought My counsel, and I grew ruler and judge Among them ; till I thought, — mayhap 'tis here The land, and this the promised kingdom ; — but Once more His voice bade forward ! "— Sarai, Look! There on the hills of Bashan,^^ where the downs Slope to the desert, see the Rephaims' tents As black spots in the sunset ! — From yon grove Of oak upon the hill, see how the smoke Curls in the evening air, from the foul rites Wherewith they serve the two-horned Ashtaroth ! — Nay, fear not, Sarai, He who guides will guard. What are those robber-hordes to Him who rules In earth and heaven ? Here in these forest glades Made musical by wood-pigeon's sweet plaint, Cuckoo and hoopoe's call, His angels keep Their sleepless watch around our sleeping camp ; — Fear not, dear Sarai, God will keep His own. " — Ah, there's the oak of Moreh ! "^ — There, at last — ^Where spake the heathen oracles of old, — 'Twixt the twin hills Ebal and Geraizim, I pitched my tent ; and as the even fell, Beneath the twilight of its spreading boughs. In vision I beheld the Holy One, And heard the well-known Voice, from distant Ur That led, — ' To thy seed will I give this land.' THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 6i And, — stars' bright eyes my only witnesses, — That joyful solemn night, — in earnest sure And seal of promised ownership, — I reared My land's first altar to the Living God ! " — Ha! who^* comes yonder with the milk-white ass,^* With trappings basiUsk-crowned, led by his slaves ? — A sar ^^ from Pharaoh's court at Auaris ! ^^ — What is't he says ? ' Apopi,^^ son of Set, Star of both Worlds, hath heard the fame of her. The Amu •'^ sheikh's fair sister, sends to bid Before the Hyksos throne ? ' — Sarai, forgive ! — I thought it little when we passed the gates ^^ Of the great wall that guards the Egyptian land From the wild desert's sons, that I should give The Pharaoh's captain, whose stele took our names. Thy name as sister, — thou my father's child : — — But how my coward heart sank, to see thee set That day upon the Pharaoh's milk-white ass. Yet dare utter no word ! — Then came the flocks And herds, camels and asses, menservants And maids ! — How my soul loathed each gift that proved Apopi held thee fair ! — Ah, what was that They said ? A pjague in Pharaoh's house ? Dread hope ! — My God delivers and the Hyksos dies ! — He died not, ^^ yet my God delivered. — Bless His name for aye ! — " —A garden of the Lord ! ^^ See ! the blue waters of the Salt Sea gleam. 62 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES And Moab's hills in hues of opal shine At set of sun, and nestling 'neath their vines And olives, glance the Cities of the Plain, — From that height, east of Bethel, where we stood Beside mine altar, — and I said, *■ Prithee No strife betwixt us,' — for the herdsmen strove, — ' Is not the land before thee ? ' — and he chose The vale of Jordan with its clustering towns, And pastures green, and gleam of waters ; — but Its men were wicked in the sight of God Exceedingly. " — Look ! Look ! The Susian camp ^^ Yonder at Dan, asleep beneath the stars, Save where the sounds of revelry and song Break on the midnight air, — and Lot with them ! — Careless they feast and sleep, — but what a cry Was that they woke with ! — How the battle raged, Through the rich plain and up the mountain pass. Past fair Damascus ! — Ah, our side were few, But God was on it ! — Here, the carnage stay ! — Yon cave of Hobah in the black rocks' face, Long since my place of prayer, — make now our shrine Of thanksgiving ! — Kudur-Lagamar is't That flees by yonder path across the hill ? — ^Ay, once before I saw great Elam's king, — Then, face to face, — now, but the fluttering skirt Of his escaping robe ! "—Who is't that comes ^* Down the steep path, from yonder town perched high THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 63 Upon the hill-top, bearing bread and wine ? — And hark ! he blesses in the name of God Most High ! — His name I deemed by me alone Was known, — no altar in the land builded To Him, till mine at Moreh, — and in this Hill-fort of Jebusites, His High Priest reigns, A king of righteousness and peace ! — ^ost glad, Oh King of Salem, priest of God Most High, — Thou who hast known the Name all else forgot, — On thy great altar lay I tithes of all ! " — No spoil, not a shoe latchet ! ^^ Shall the King Of Sodom say, "Twas I made Abram rich?' — He who defies the God that gave it all ! " — ^ Look up and count the stars^^ for so thy seed Shall be.' — Forth from the tent He led, and 'neath The million-clustered sky He spake with me The childless, — and my heart believed ; — yet I Must deem that / must help Omnipotence, — So took Sarai's Egyptian handmaid ! — Ah ! My heart was broke, that day I needs must send My tameless Ishmael, with his dauntless eyes And dark thick-clustering locks, and her that bore. Forth to the desert, — cast upon His care, — His, who would teach, my help He needed not, — Whom I no more might shelter ! — And He cared, — 'Neath Hagar's thirsting eyes bade water spring ; — — In the lone desert God was with the boy ! — " Yet not to him the promise, — him the child 64 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Of my presumptuous thought, — but unto him, — God's own free gift, — whom Sarai bore — Isaac, Our Son of Laughter, — promised that day ^'^ He made his covenant with Abraham, Henceforth, father of many, and with her, Sarah, my Princess. " — Ah ! yonder's the grove ^^ Of Mamre, where I sat in the tent door. Beneath the shade of its great terebinth. At burning noon, and lo, three Shining Ones Stood by me 'neath the tree !— No Amorites, No Sons of Heth, nor men of Sodom they, But strangers seemed, from some far beauteous shore ; — My heart rose up to greet them, as I bowed E'en to the ground before them, and besought That they would rest and eat beneath the tree. — Ah ! two what tales they were they brought that day. When Sarah laughed to hear, ere long a Son Of Laughter should be laid within her arms ; — And in my guest I recognised my God ! And on yon hill, that overlooks the plain, I dared to stay Him, and to strive with Him Who made, to save its doomfed towns, and He Listed my pleading ! — But He found not ten ! — Ere next day brake ^^ I hasted to the hill And looked towards Sodom, and her smoke, as smoke Of furnace rose towards high heaven ! — "—Alas! See yonder's Gerar,^" where Abimelech, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The heathen Caphtorin, put my gray hairs, — That yet had failed to learn God's lesson taught How oft ! — to public shame, reproved by him. The worshipper of Set ! ^^ " — Not yet my task Was learnt, — but whom God teaches He leaves not Till perfected.—" He ceased, and sad they stood. Deeming the last words said, — to watch the grand Still face, one breathless breathing-space while life's Last sands ran out, and deepening twilight fell, — When thrilling through the gloom, solemn and clear, His voice once more,^ " —Within the tent they slept,^^ — The mother and the boy, — the rosy cheek Sun-browned, and clustering-locks pillowed upon The strong young arm, — and Sarah's placid brow All shadowless, and cheek that had resumed Almost its youthful roundness since he came. " The Voice came to me in the silent night. When the blue deep of heaven was rich with stars Hanging like lamps above me. — All around Was silence, save the ceaseless croak of frogs From reedy pool,- or chirp of grasshopper Among the leaves. — To them it came not, oh My God, for that I thank thee !— Could it be F 66 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES God's voice? — How could His voice command that which Would make His word eternal void, — His word Wherein we hoped, — hoping 'gainst hope, — until Our Child of Laughter leaped in's mother's arms ! " — And this to be the end ! — It cannot be ! God could not mock us with a hope frustrate So soon, a promise kept only to break, And with it break our hearts, — our hearts that hoped In Him alone ; — and yet, — could I mistake His voice ! — That Voice so oft I've heard since first It called 'mid palms of Chaldee, bidding forth From home and kindred to a land unknown ? — — ' Take now thy son, thine only son, him whom Thou lov'st, and offer him a sacrifice With fire upon mine altar, ^ — and upon My vision rose, a lonely hill-top once I saw before, when through Moriah's land, From slaughter of the kings at Dan, I passed By Salem, city of Melchisedek, High-Priest of God Most High.— A lonely hilps Twin-born with Salem, cut by deep ravines Off from the mountains round. Clear, now as then. The Priest-King's city, and its sister-hill Lonely and silent. Though so near the stir Of busy life, no foot seems e'er to tread Its wild of tangled bushes, that o'erhang White precipice and gorge, and dark-mouthed cave Where crouch the wild things of the wilderness. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 67 Around — all smiling plenty, but itself Fit scene for smoke of lonely sacrifice. — But oh, my God ! what offering is that Whose blue smoke curls above Moriah's hill ? — The voice said, ' Take thy son, thine only son,' — And lo, the smoke of unseen sacrifice. Curling to heaven ! — " It was God's voice, how dread So-e'er its message ! — Clear, and aye more clear. It grows upon my thought, — His voice that led Me hither. — Can I deny my Guide ? "—See! The boy moves in his rosy sleep, — the stars Grow pale before the coming dawn, — I must Away ! — Each moment of delay but makes Obedience harder. — Blindly I obey, — Lead, Lord, thy servant follows ! " — ^Yon's the place ! — O God ! the rising sun gilds with his light The lonely hill, till every tangled bush Becomes a net, to catch his beams And hold them in a glad imprisonment ! The little stream that trickles from the rock With every drop laughs back in myriad glee ! E'en the dark caves half-ope their dismal jaws As with a smile, and yield their garniture Of leaf and fern unto his jocund kiss. Nor hint at beasts of night that crouch within ! 68 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES With sapphire arch the blue Heaven spans the Earth That lies, laughing in its embrace ; the birds Twitter, and chirp, and carol in each tree ; The grasshopper, plays revels in the grass With the slow beetle ; e'en the croaking frog, That leaps beside the pool, pauses and pants With rapture, as his glossy coat basks back The cheering ray, and his bead eyes reflect Its glory ! — " — Yet, — this is the place ; — here where The joy of day wakens all earth to light And gladsome life, — the place for deed of death. " — O God ! Had Thy dread thunderbolts broke loose Round lone Moriah's peak, — had clouds, as shroud Enwrapt it in their gloom, — had darkness, as From outstretched wing of some huge bird of night O'ershadowed it, — had all its caves gaped black Like open graves, save where white snarling teeth, And flaming blood-red eyes of savage beast Gleamed from their darkness, — that-fieae. fit back-ground For deed horrid as this !^ — But on this morn, — This young and jocund day, like to his own Young life ! — "—Yet, 'tis Thy will. Almighty.— Thine, Whose voice hath led me all my changeful days. Till now an old man, stooping on my staff Over my grave. — My God, I cannot see ! — — A path it seems, horrid with blood and murder, That Nature cries against, and brands worse than THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The first dark deed that stained with brother's blood The shuddering earth. — Yet will I follow. — Who Am / to judge Thy right and wrong, O Thou Unsearchable ? — Darkness is light with Thee ! — Here must I leave the young men and the ass, I and the lad, go forth alone into The darkness. — " ' Let me bear the wood,' he said, ' My father, long the path and steep, and hot The morning sun, and ne'er methinks I saw Thy face so weary, or thy step so slow.' — ' Ay, bear the wood, my son,' I answered him, — 'The path is narrow, I will lead the way.' " — My God, the bitterness of death is past ! — Surely beside me in this narrow path, Between these chalky cliffs, there walketh One, — E'en He who stayed with me beneath the oak At Mamre, when the two went on their way. — — I see Him not, but His felt presence fills My soul with peace, — peace like the peace of heaven ! The deed is yet to do, — but now no more The quivering flesh shrinks shuddering from its task, The hand falters no more, — ay, will not quake E'en when the knife is raised. — It is Thy task, O Thou Unsearchable, and with it comes A peace unsearchable as Thou. — Long since, By Sarah's voice, Thou askfedst Ishmael, And I, — into the blackness of the wilderness. Cast him upon Thy care, — and Thou hast cared 70 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES For him. — Into Death's blacker darkness now, Isaac Thou call'st.— In peace I give him Thee ; — Living or dying is he not the Lord's ? " ' My father.' 'What say'st thou, my son ?' ' Behold ! Here is the fire and wood, but where the lamb For our burnt-offering?' — 'My son, God will Provide a lamb for His own sacrifice.' " Here is the place ! — Here on the highest peak Of lone Moriah, on the naked rock. Gather the altar-stones, that straight to heaven. Unmixed with breath of earth, may rise the smoke Of this burnt sacrifice ! — ' Isaac, my son, — For thee I prayed. — God heard and gave. — In thee Is bound my all. — God gave that ail. — Shall I Refuse to give Him back His own ? — He sees Thy spotless youth, too pure for earth, — wills it To bloom in heaven, — too sweet a flower, To yield its incense to the vulgar touch Of common death, or grip of foul disease,- — His own hand plucks thee. — Consecrate to Him — Thou art the lamb, my son.' " — Hark ! what is that That rings so clear through the hot breathless noon, And stays the uplifted knife ? — His voice once more ! — ' Abraham, Abraham, lay not thy hand Upon the lad, for now I know thou fear' st The Lord thy God, since thou hast not withheld Thy son, thine only son, from me.' THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 71 "—At last! -His lesson — life-long taught — was learnt at last ! " — And now the end. — From the tent's open door, Here 'neath my oak of Mamre, I can see, On yon hill-side, the white roofs and the trees Of Kirjath-Arba,^* where I rose up from Before my Dead, — and from the Sons of Heth I bought my first possession in my land, In Ephron's field and cave, that I might lay My Dead from out my sight ; — for in no tomb, Borrowed of Sons of Heth, might she be laid. In this her children's land ; — and in the dust , Of her I loved the best, first seisin took Of mine inheritance. — " And now, I too Would enter on my rest, — and where the trees Round Ephron's cave, rise there above the town, With her I take possession. — " He hath taught My help He needeth not. — 'Tis His to care. — So will I lay me down in peace and sleep." BOOK II FEALTY [YOUTH] }DW Wa-ba HE'D '"135? Numb. xii. 7, I Brick-fields outside Pi-Ramses or Zoan-Tanis-^ Chorus of Hebrew^ children, piling bricks. Strophe, {girls) — " They starve us, they starve us ! " Antistrophe, {pays) — " They beat us, they beat us ! " (Both)— " But there's some One above, there's some One above. Who will punish them well, who will punish them well ! " {One girVs voice) — " The chief of the village, the chief of the village. May the dogs tear him," {Alt)— " Tear him, tear him." Grand- Procession^ of Ramses II., bringing Syrian Captives of War to "the House of his father Amon." Musicians, dancing men and women, and a band of Pallares, * the royal priestesses of Thebes, — singing. " Ramses,^ the youthful king, the bold of hand. His equal where is he ? Strong are his arms, His heart is firm, — like Monthu,* god of war. 76 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES His courage in the fight : to lands unknown His warriors he leads, his weapons takes : More than a hundred thousand is his might ; He is a wall, — their shield in battle's day ! Behind him Amon's^ legions came, legions Of Ra,8 and Ptah,^ and Sutekh,^" on their roads. " The chief men of his warriors he called, Unto the lake in land of Amorites ; There stood the Khita's^^ miserable king In midst of all his men, heroes most brave Of Khita, — three upon each chariot stood. Yet none so bold as venture on the fight ! "At last, from Kadesh on the south they stole. On legion of Pra-Hor-fn-khuh,^^ unwarned. And lo ! before them Pharaoh's host gave way ! At north of Kadesh, where he lay, they come To tell the king. Like Monthu he arose. His weapons grasped, and put his armour on, — Like unto Baal was he ! — The noble pair, 'Victory in Thebes,' ^^ in Pharaoh's chariot sprang. Into the midst of Khita's host they rushed, — Alone, and of the others with him none ! " Then Pharaoh looked, — before him and behind, Two thousand and four hundred chariots hemmed Him round, — on each, of Khita's heroes, three ! " ' Not one among my princes. Not one among my captains. Not one among my chief men. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 77 Not one among my knights, My warriors and my chariots, all were fled. Not one was there to aid me in the fight ! ' Then Pharaoh spake, ' O Amon, where art thou ? The father has he then forgot his son ? Ne'er were the precepts of thy mouth transgressed ; Shall Egypt's ruler bow himself before The foreign folk ? Whate'er these herdmen mean, Amon should stand more high than they, the vile Who nothing know of God. " — Is it for nought That I have built thee temples for all time. And filled them with my prisoners of war ? And obelisks from Elephantine Isle^* Have brought, and raised thee masts and wondrous works In stone, and thousand oxen sacrificed With good sweet-smelling woods ? " — 'Twas I who brought For thee the everlasting stone ; who caused For thee the ships to go across the sea ; Let him be put to shame who scorns thy name. But good be unto him who worships thee ! Lo !. I have served thee with a willing heart. Therefore I call on thee. " O Amon ! see ! I am in midst of unknown folk, — alone. No other is with me. My warriors all And charioteers are fled ; — I called, but none 78 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Made answer to my voice. But unto me Better is Amon than a million men, Hundreds of thousand horses, yea, than tens Of thousands, were they brothers all arid sons. Together in one place. Nought are the works Of men ; Amon is more than all. — Behold, From the earth's utmost end I call on thee ! " My voice an echo found in Hermonthis,-'^ And Amon heard and answered to my cry ; His hand he reached to me, and from behind He spake, ' O Ramses Miamun,^^ to thee I haste. I am with thee. Lo ! I am he. Thy father, Amon-Ra, the Sun-god. Yea, am I, Worth more than hundred thousands met in one. I am the Lord of Victory, the Friend Of Valour ; — ^right spirit have I found in thee. Whereat my heart is glad.' " — It came to pass Changed was I then, — made like unto the god Monthu. — The dart with my right hand I hurled,- With my left hand I fought, — of chariots Two thousand and five hundred I hg.d found. In midst of them I was, — in pieces they Were dashed before my horses, from them none Raised up a hand to fight ! As crocodiles Into the water sink, I made them fall. They fell each one, none raised himself again ! " Then stood there still the miserable king THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES \ Of Khita mid his warriors, to behold The great fight of the king. — On them I rtished, I killed them where they stood. — Like Monthu I. — Each to his fellow cried, ' This is no man ! Ah, woe is me, 'tis Sutekh in our midst ! In all his limbs is Baal ! ' Their hands fell down. They aimed not bow nor spear, they saw his course Afar ! — Behind them like a griffin came The king ! — He spake, — I struck them down, my voice I lifted to my warriors. — ' Look now, Behold my victory ! I am alone. But Amon is my help, — Amon with me ! ' " So chanted Pharaoh's singer, ■^'^ — ^he who bare The books of Hermes, — leading the white choir Of royal Pallares, Amon's priestesses, — As through the avenue of sphinxes wound The great procession, cheered by dance and song Of men and maidens, and the rhythmic clang Of Castanet and timbrel, beat of drum. And note of pipe and flute ; — towards Amon's shrine, In the new temple-city, Ramses reared On ruins of old Zoan ; — on the great day,^* The twenty-first of Tybi, — when the king In state was come, his peace-ofiferings to lay. Before his .father Amon-Ra, and gods Hor-m-khuh, Tum,^^ and Ptah, and Sutekh strong Of Nut the Son.^" — After the priestess choir, — Royallest of Egypt's daughters ; — bearing high 8o THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES The hour-glass, Time's true measure, and the palm. Symbol of Fate, writ in the eternal stars, — The Horoscopus came ; — with ink and reed. And long papyrus scroll, — feathers on head, The Hierogrammat next, expounder he Of hieroglyphics, earth's geography. And course of sun and moon, Egypt and Nile ; — Next, the Stolistes, — he who chose the calves For sacrifice, — bearing the cubit just. And cup, filled for libation ; — last of all The Prophet, water-jar on breast, — behind, His bread-bearers, — most learned he of all, In mystic lore of the ten sacred books, That teach of the great gods and Egypt's laws. Then filed the ranks of chariot and foot,^'^ — Whence front and rear, proudly the banners waved. And in their midst, — surrounded by his sons, His scribes and body-guard, — on splendid car. The state flabella borne above hig head By running fan-bearers, — the Pharaoh came,^ — And close behind, his Syrian captives, bound To fill the house of Amon, his great sire. At the high Temple-gateway,^^ — where, from top Of flag-staffs huge, upon the lazy air. His mighty streamers floated, red and blue, — — Before which and behind, in stately pairs, Rose giant obelisks, sunbeams in stone, — — Pharaoh alighted, and beneath the shade Of royal flabella and fans' waving plumes, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Approached the inner gateway, o'er which rose The Sun-god's hawk-head sign ; — whence issuing came The priests' procession forth to meet the king, And incense burn before him, while aloud, From a papyrus scroll, a priest recounts His triumphs and the favours of the gods. Through the great hall, on figures Osiride Of placid strength supported, — next he passed. On through the inner vestibule, adorned With pictured deeds of heroes and old kings, Till last, he reached the Temple's inmost shrine, And, 'neath a figure of the Sun-god, saw. Crouched on his purple bed, the Sacred Calf,^^ Mnevis, the incarnate Deity, before Whose feet, — as giver of his victories, — He laid, with incense and with sacrificp. His spoils of battle, and the prisoners brought To swell the Sun-god's train ; while at the sound Of trumpet, came the regiments in turn. And with the beat of drum, each soldier laid Upon his altar, olive-twig of thanks. The sacrifices over, and his seal Set to the Khita's embassy of peace, 'Mid blare of trumpet and glad beat of drum, Ramses arose to meet his waiting car, When, — ^kneeling at his feet, — a soothsayer,'^* Besought his private ear, to hear a dream, Of ill portentous to great Pharaoh's land. G 82 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES " O Pharaoh, live for ever," thus he said, — When now within the sanctuary he stood. Alone before the king, — " As at Abydus ^^ On yesternight, I slept among the tombs. Near by the Temple of Osiris, reared. To thy great-father, Seti Mineptah, By thee, oh king, — ^with whom, since time of Ra,^^ None other can compare, who honoured so His father, save Horus alone,^^^ — as thou Hast done, so did Osiris' son ! — In dream I saw, and to a Hebrew woman lo, A babe was born, e'en as Osiris, fair, And ere he knew his right hand from his left. Upon thy double-crown he set his feet ; — Wherefore, have care, O Ramses Miamun ! For, if that babe shall live, then by his hand. The miserable Hebrews shall arise. To thy great kingdom's woe ; — for never fail The dreams Osiris at Abydus sends Beside the tomb of Seti Mineptah." With gathering frown upon his brow, the king, " Ha ! Sayest thou so ? The caitiff Hebrew slaves ! — They miserable, on whose back I laid A double burden, lest they grow too strong Within the land ! — Are they not yet subdued. But think to rear deliverer ? — Now, by The life of Pharaoh ! — by Sutekh strong. And house of Amon-Ra, but they shall see Who is the stronger ! — Let the word go forth That every male, of Hebrew mother born. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Be Strangled in the birth ! — And if, mayhap, Any by cunning craft escape the doom, — — Finding, — each subject of the Double-Crown, — By life of Pharaoh ! — in the Nile shall throw Such viper's spawn, as food for crocodiles !" He said, and mounted on his car, wherein, " Victory in Thebes," — the matchless Arab pair, Sons of the desert, who had borne him safe Through Kadesh' bloody fight, — impatient tossed Their lion-crested heads, — nor heard amid The prance of horses, and the roll of drums, The children's dismal chorus from the fields Of brick, as his triumphant car swept past : " They starve us, they starve us, They beat us, they beat us. But there's some One above, therms some One above, Who will punish them well, who will punish them well." II The dawn brake cool upon the sultry night Over the " Conqueror's City," ^ in whose halls Of spacious marble, decked with costliest art, In chambers of the women, Merrhis fair,^ Great Ramses' princess child, dwelt by the Nile. — Upon the lilies of the reedy lake, Pshensor's papyrus flowers, on trellised vine, Almond and fig-tree grove, on swarming fish That filled the still canals, on water-birds Winging their morning flight across the lakes Their wet plumes glittering, on tall ship-masts Of Egypt and Phcenicia in its port. Fell the glad glory of the dewy dawn. In the great chamber's balcony ' that crowned The gateway, Ramses sat, to taste the cool Nile breeze, ere yet the sun's hot breath sullied Its morning freshness, and the thirsty land Yet glittered with night's tear-drops, till the hour That called the * pontiff-king to priestly rites In his new temple-city's splendid shrines ^ Of Amon, Hor-m-khuh, and Ptah, and that God of the stranger, Sutekh ; — at his side, Merrhis, his much-beloved. — THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 85 Sudden there ® came, Breaking their converse, patter of small feet Through the long balcony, and, angel-fair, A three-year boy trotted to Merrhis' knee. And with his tiny hand plucking her robe. Held up his baby face for morning kiss : " Now, by the life of Pharaoh," Ramses said, " A young Osiris ! ^ Merrhis, whence the boy ?" " From the gods, oh my father," Merrhis said. Stooping her beauteous head to meet the kiss Of the soft, rosy, upturned mouth, " Thou know'st, O king, from me great Isis ^ hath withheld The mother's blessing, but old Hapi saw,^ And, pitying, gave this babe, as thou hast said, Fair as Osiris. May the great gods grant A thousand jubilees^" to thee, O king ! — Yet when the fateful hour that comes to all Hath struck for thee, and, like to Turn at night. Thou join'st the great who live for evermore Hid in Osiris,^^ none more meet, meseems. Than this fair babe, — great Hapi's gift, — to wear The Double-Crown." 1^ "In sooth, the boy is fair, — Were he indeed thy son,^^ — thou know'st thyself Much-loved 'mong Ramses' daughters, — it were well My will. Come hither, child, and let us see How thou canst wear a crown." And lifting up The crown that lay ready for priestly rites. Upon the boy's soft curls the Pharaoh laid. Was it its weight upon the baby-brow, Or some unreasoned instinct in the brain, 86 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES That moved the boy, that with his tiny hands He snatched the glittering bauble from his head And stamped upon it in his baby wrath ? A laugh broke from great Ramses, well he knew, The little feet powerless to hurt his crown, But simultaneous burst, fierce angry shout From one among the princely retinue That filled the ante-room, and bright a sword Gleamed from its scabbard o'er the boy's fair head;- But lightning-swift, Merrhis had caught the child, And ere it fell nestled him in her breast. " 'Tis he ! 'tis he ! O Pharaoh," cried the scribe, " The babe whose birth portends thy kingdom's woe. Said not the vision by Osiris' shrine. Ere yet he knew his right hand from his left. Upon thy double-crown he set his feet ? This day the vision is fulfilled, O king ! " — A moment, Ramses glanced upon the boy Nestled in Merrhis' bosom, " Nay," he said, " This is no wretched spawn of Hebrew slave, But a good gift, and costly, of the gods. To our belovfed daughter Merrhis given ; — 'Twas but the frolic of a wayward babe. Back to its sheath thy sword ! — The hour demands Our presence in the temple. Lift the crown And place it on my brow." — And clothed in state. With robe of leopard skin i* and double-crown. The Pharaoh rose to seek the great gods' shrine. Next morn the king went on his regal way, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 87 Leaving fair Merrhis and her fairer child, — Hapi's good gift, — at play among the flowers, And sparkling founts, and green and bosky groves Of palm and oleander that enriched Pi-Ramses' palace ^^ courts, gladdening with sound Of baby prattle, mixed with silvery laugh Of woman's voice, its columned corridors ; Or through the stillness of the women's ^^ rooms, Thrilling like song of sweet imprisoned bird. When the hot glare of the fierce noontide sun Bade seek their cool dim twilight, musical With drip of silvery spray from marble fonts. And sweet with perfumed breath of lotus-flowers. Near by fair Merrhis' palace, on the Nile, A humble cottage nestled 'neath its palms, Where dwelt a pair, — Hebrews ^^ of Levi's race, — Amram and Jochebed ; and oft at morn, When Horus, slayer of Osiris' fofe. Rose bright and beauteous from his father's grave, Fair Merrhis sent her maidens with the boy To Amram's lowly cot, where Jochebed With mother's love had nursed the Nile-cast babe, — Nor bade return till Turn should sink to rest Shrouded in glories of the glowing west. — A Hebrew bond-slave's hut, and yet the boy, Nourished in Pharaoh's palace, — with a child's Frank joy in simple life and homely love, — Rejoiced in Jochebed and Amram's cot 88 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Beside the still broad Nile, where 'neath the palms, He plaited the papyrus reeds to make A mimic ark, and sailed it on the stream, And when it stranded 'mid the bulrushes. He loved to hear, — though for the thousandth time, — The tale that Jochebed ne'er tired to tell, How in such ark of bulrushes he lay, A helpless babe, weeping upon the Nile, When Pharaoh's daughter found, and Miriam ran To fetch a Hebrew nurse ; — then they would seek, Adown the river's course, the very spot, Where the long bulrushes grow thick around A little isle, — and the boy marvelled why. Oft as she told the tale, Jochebed's eyes Shone bright through unshed tears, radiant with joy. 'Twas the tale told most oft, — yet o'er the meals Of lentils and of garlic,''* and the fruit Of the date-palms that grew around their cot. At noontide's hour of rest, the eager boy, With his young playmates of the bondsman's house, Aaron and Miriam, heard with wondering ears, Yet other tales that Jochebed could tell, Of the old heroes of the Hebrew race. And Israel's God, till his heart burned within Him as she told, of Abram's sacrifice Accepted yet restored, — Rebecca fair Riding upon her camel from afar To Isaac's tent, — of Jacob's wrestling 'neath The midnight moon, that named him Prince with God Or of the captive youth of Hebrew race. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 89 Who ruled great Egypt's destinies, and saved Her teeming myriads in the years of drought. — And the bright years sped on ; and fair the boy Grew like a stately palm in Merrhis' home, Wearing the Horus locks ^^ that marked him son Of Pharaoh's royal house ; — the daily task Conning at feet of Hor-m-khuh's old priest ; — Waiting at morning sacrifice the while Fair Merrhis bare the sistrum ^^ of the god ; — Loving his princess-mother, loving too, His simple Hebrew nurse, with her quaint tales. Of Israel's greatness in the days of old. And hinted prophecy that Israel's God Would yet rear them deliverer, — half-checked Ere uttered, in the ears of Merrhis' son. So passed in glad monotony the days Of Moses' joyous childhood by the Nile, Within the Pharaoh's stately palace-courts, No break in the sweet sameness ; — till a day When Ramses called his ^^ numerous progeny, His sixty sons and daughters fifty-nine, — (Whose pictured images upon the wall, Still smile down on the pilgrim seeking now Great Seti's tomb) ; — to dedicate with him At far Abydus, to his father's name, The shrine, — ^just finished, — of the Risen One;^^ And with his princess-mother Moses went To swell the Pharaoh's train, and add his voice, With its young freshness, to the funeral hymn^^ 90 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Great Ramses made in honour of his sire, And join the prayer of offerings of the Dead. Bright o'er the Sacred Lake^* the torches gleamed, As in the star-lit stillness the priests bare The holy Seshem bark, in memory of The burial of the Risen One, that night. The third of Phamenoth, when Pharaoh came. At the great desert-shrine, to celebrate The Risen Osiris, and the Osiris king. With mystic rites beneath the crescent moon. Of the young spring-time, amid silence deep. On the lone desert-lake, the sacred bark Was launched to sail into the Sunrise. Then, When day's first ray gilded the floating shrine. Great Ramses' voice of prayer rose through the dawn " To Seti,^^ the Osiris king, ' Awake, Thy face raise up to Heaven ! Behold the Sun, My father Mineptah, like unto God ! Lo ! here am I who make thy name to live. Thou restest like Osiris in the deep, While like to Ra over mankind I rule ; Into the realms of Heaven thou art gone. Thou companiest with the Sun-god Ra, Thou art united with the stars and moon, Thou restest in the deep, like those who dwell With the eternal Unnofer.^® Thy hands Move the god Tum, in heaven and on earth. Like to the wandering and the fixfed stars. Thou restest in the front part of Ra's bark ; THE Purpose of the ages 91 When in the tabernacle of the heavens The Sun arises, then thine eyes behold His splendour ; when Turn goes to rest on earth, Then thou art in his train. The secret house Thou enterest before his lord. Thy foot Doth wander in the deep, — in company Of great gods of the under-world art thou. '" By my prayers is it, oh thou glorious one, The breath of thy awaking, and I praise Thy many names from day to day. 'Tis I Who love my father, — while on earth I stay, Lo ! I will offer sacrifice to thee. My hand shall bring libations to thy name. To thine abodes. Come, speak to Ra of life. Unto his son, and unto Unnofer, That with a heart of love, he many make To Ramses the great king, his jubilees ^"^ Of thirty years. — Well shall it be for thee. Thou shalt be treated as thou wert alive. Of thy name's honour I will be the guard. For thee my heart beats, should'st thou still remain Within the deep, earth's best shall be thy part. While I shall live, I, Ramses Miamun.' " The Pharaoh ceased, and from the temple-choir Low rose the solemn ritual^' of the Dead, And Ramses' sons and daughters, and the voice Of Merrhis' Nile-given boy, mingled to swell The mystic chant of mourning and of hope. 92 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES " Oh ! one gleaming in the moon,^* I come forth from thy multitudes, I have opened the gate, The Osiris comes forth from the day, Tum, O Tum ! coming forth from the great place Within the celestial abyss. Lighted by the Lion-gods ! Oh ! workman of the Sun, by day and by night The Osiris lives after he dies, like the Sun daily ; — For as the Sun died and was born yesterday. So is the Osiris born ; — Every god rejoices as they rejoice with life, 1 am Thoth '" who comes out of the temple of Annu. " O Soul ! greatest of things created,'^ Let the Osiris go ! He passes from the gate. He sees his father Osiris, He makes a way in the darkness to his father Osiris, He is his belovfed, he has come to see his father Osiris ; He has pierced the heart of Set,*^ He has opened all the paths on heaven and on earth. He is the son beloved of his father. He has come from the mummy a prepared spirit, gods and goddesses give way ! " Stop ! Go back ! Back, Crocodile,'^ from coming to me ! Do not thou say the name of the great god ! Annihilate the crocodiles who live off his brain ! 1 have sat in the birthplace of Osiris, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 93 Born with him, I renew myself with him, I repose exceeding well. " Back, Crocodile of the West ! Living off those never at rest ! What thou hatest is in my belly, I have eaten the limbs of Osiris, I am Set. Back, Crocodile of the West ! There is an asp in my belly, I am not given to thee. Do not burn me, Back, Eastern Crocodile ! " I am the Soul in his two halves,'* Let him explain it ! Osiris goes into Tattu,^^ he finds the Soul of the Sun there, One and the other are united ; The Soul in his two halves, Is the Soul of the Sun and the Soul of Osiris. Sun in his egg, gleaming in his orb. Shining from his horizon, floating in his clouds, Save thou the Osiris from that god whose forms are mystic ! " Hail, O Sun ! Creator, self-created ! '^ Perfect is thy light in the horizon, Illuminating the world with thy rays ; 1 have come to thee ! I am with thee ! Beholding thy disk daily. I combine with the noble spirits, the wise of the Hades, 94 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES I come forth with them to see thy perfection ! Thou shinest at Dawn, Thou foUowest thy mother Nu,^'^ Directing thy face to the West, My hands adore thy setting, Thou settest from the Land of Life. Hail, thou who hast cut in pieces the Scorner ! And strangled the Apophis,^^ Give thou the sweet breath of the north wind To the Osiris ! " I went in as a Hawk, I came out as a Phoenix, ^^ I have made me a path, I adore the Sun in the happy West ! Plaited are the locks of Osiris, I follow the dogs of Har,*" A path has been made for me, Glory, glory to Osiris ! " — As Horus, o'er the Desert's Shrine, arose. Their mystic chant of mourning and of hope. Ill Brightly the sun gleamed on the polished stone, From the red mountain quarries of Suan, That cased the " Pyramid of Lights," ^ Khtifu, — Long ages since, where Ghizeh's desert skirts The Nile, — ^had reared for monument and tomb, — And on the seventy Pyramids that rose Around it on the plain, where Egypt's kings Of the old giant race, each in his life Had raised his house of giant sleep. Near-by, Beneath the shade of the great lion, Hu,^ That human-headed, calm, inscrutable. Crouched on the desert in majestic rest, A waiting chariot ^ stood, caparisoned Royally in gold, with asps and lotus-flowers, — The patient oxen drowsing 'neath the shade, ^- While up the steep and narrow path that clomb 'Twixt his great limbs, two pilgrims sought the shrine Of Hor-fii-khuh, whose pillared porch lay hid High on the Sphinx's mighty breast of stone ; — Merrhis and Moses come to pay their vows To Horus' giant symbol, on their way 96 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES From far Pi-Rarases to the priestly On,* Within whose walls of learning,^ Merrhis' son Must train for princely destiny, in peace And war, to judge and to command. < Across The sandy plain and the broad Nile, their eyes, — From pillared temple-porch, where high they stood,— Whence oxen, charioteer, and waiting car Showed dwarfed like flies, — caught their first glimps o'er palm And oleander grove of Mennofer,® And Usurtasen's ' obelisk that rose At gate of holy On. Silect they stood And gazed on the fair scene, where Nile, grefen-swathed In verdant robe himself had wove, slow glides By tower and temple, obelisk and shrine, A-glitter 'neath the mid-day blue and glow ; — When from the temple-porch a white-robed priest Stood by their side, — the Pharaoh's ^ favourite son Khamus, High-priest of Ptah. Serene his eye, Severe his priestly robe ® of virgin white. As after greetings kind to Merrhis fair His sister, on the boy's young head he laid His hand in benediction : " Welcome, son,'' He said, " unto the sacred Mysteries ^^ Of Egypt's wisest, and the Incarnate Deity, Ptah and the Apis-Bull, ^^ whose earthly form Enshrines Osiris' soul. Be learned 'mong The learnbd, wise among the wise, 'mid brave THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 97 The bravest, without spot thy name,^^ simple And pure thy life, laborious thy days ; Till step by step, from type to typified ^* Thou risest through the symbol to the sense, And through the fleshly form of Apis-Bull Canst see the hid Osiris, and with eyes Initiate and far-reaching, scan man's life, And Mysteries of Deity. "— 'Tis well, Merrhis, my sister, thou hast led him first To Hor-m-khuh's great shrine, — him whom his youth In far Pi-Ramses learned to reverence And serve ; — for out of old things still must grow The new, and from the seed of childhood's faith, — A seed which needs must die, buried in earth, — Yet springs the fair immortal flower of faith That dies not. " Go, my son, to Hor-ni-khuh, The guardian of thy youth, pay grateful gift's ; — Then shalt thou come to Mennofer, there smell The Apis-Bull's sweet breath, ■'*■ — intoxicate With soul of Deity thenceforth foretell The fate of men and nations ; — for the god Best loves ingenuous youth, and upon boys Who seek him ever showers his choicest gifts. — To-day is his high festival, — thou com'st At an auspicious hour, my son." He ceased, And Moses and his mother sought the shrine Of Hor-in-khuh hid in the Sphinx' great heart, H 98 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES While Khamus mused alone, pacing the porch. " — A young bright life with noble destinies Writ on the candid brow and eye intense, The index of a soul that dwells afar On untrod heights, within the mystic veil That shrouds the far Unseen. — A boy, Nature Herself hath chose and consecrate to know The hidden Mysteries and rule 'mong men. — Nor he a dreamer only, lost in thoughts Mystic and lone, like Khamus ; — high emprise Sits on his brow ; — now shall his budding life Fulfil the broken promise of mine own. — Lo ! I will lead him by the hand through fields Of ancient Wisdom, — Egypt's laws God-taught ; The course of sun, and moon, and stars that rule The destinies of kingdoms ; earth's best lore : — Yet reverent the while, his soul shall dwell On the high mountain-tops of Deity, Through fleshly symbols know the hid Osiris." The rites of Horus ended, down the steep Betwixt the Sphinx's mighty paws of stone. The three wended their way across the plain, — First, desert sand, then verdant carpet spread By mighty Hapi round his bliss-fraught feet ; — There, on the Nile's broad breast, the High-priest's ^^ bai Of wove papyrus, — its square lazy sail Drooping its purple broideries that showed The Apis-Bull wearing the Asp divine ^^ And Sun-globe wrought in gold, and on its bow The Osiris Eye, — lay, turned toward Mennofer. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 99 — Fair lotus-flowers adorned the rudder, as NeatH shrine of Ptah upon the mast's tall top They sought the lofty cabin, while without, The rowers sat, and to their rhythmic chant. Gaily the boat glided across the stream. To where, — on its left bank, — proud rose the towers, Temples, and shrines of Mena's capital. Through the thronged streets whose gathering thousands wait The god's procession, Khamus led the way To where, within his figure-pillared court ■'^'^ Abode the Bull, — his black hide glistening 'neath Heaped garlands of white lotus-flowers, for fSte Bedecked. — Reverent before him the priest kissed The dust ; — theh, to the boy, " I go, my son. To don the High-priest's robe of leopard-skin, — Abide thou in the vestibule, and when Thou seest me lead the Apis forth by chains Of flowers, with sound of harp and timbrel through The court, then fall thou prostrate at his feet With offerings, inhale his blessfed breath. And rise, seer of the Osiris evermore." Longing and trembling, Moses stood beside His princess-mother ; — rapt his soul in dreams Of high communion with a world unseen, — Till, when to sound of tabret and of harp. Bowing beneath his garlands, Apis came By Khamus led, — prostrate beneath his feet He felt his warm breath touch him as he passed, 100 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES And in a strange delirium of joy, Arose as one intoxicate with God. The great fete ended, — to the High-priest's house Within the temple-precincts, Khamus led Merrhis and her young neophyte. — " At morn," He said, "upon the Sacred Lake the god^^ Will judge the Dead. — 'Tis well at life's bright dawn To mark its eve, see how the shadows fall Illumined, when Turn sets upon a life Lived in the fear of God and love of men. With bright rays from the Risen One who dwells Beyond the shadows, — how they darken down To blackest midnight o'er the parted soul Whose days on earth condemn him. — Therefore stay, My sister, that thy son may hear the Dead Arraigned for judgment, — ^know the mystic words Wherewith Thoth guides them through the dark Unknown." 13 At break of day towards the Sacred Lake,^" Northward of Mennofer, the High-priest led His sister and the boy ; — whither should come, — His seventy days of mourning ended, — borne By friends and kindred, — a royal scribe to abide His judgment for the tomb. — Slow winding down The dusty road they watched them come. Slave first With laden tables piled with fruit and flowers, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Cakes, ointment, wine, three young geese and a calf For sacrifice. — More slaves the closets bare, — Filled now with images of the great gods, — Wherein the mummy of the Dead had shared With his dead ancestors the funeral rites Of solemn liturgy. — Then offerings ; — An empty chariot, — the charioteer. With pair of horses yoked in other car. Following on foot behind ; — borne upon poles A sledge ; — images of his ancestors ; — Arms, — sceptres, — collars, — signets of the king He served. — Next, they who bare the Sacred Boat, — The Osiris' mystic Eye, — the same that sealed The wound on mummy's side, — on prow and helm ;- Then figures of blue pottery that showed The dead man as Osiris, and the Bird, Emblem of Soul. — More cases of fresh flowers. And bottles for libation. — ^Women next, — Beating their naked breasts and throwing dust On shapely fillet-crownbd heads, — mingled With lamentation, praises of the Dead. Upon a sledge, by men and oxen drawn. In consecrated boat, the hearse came next ; Close by the boat a priest walked, and within The mourners and the women, — in their midst, By the flower-decked sarcophagus, — ^where, 'twixt Twin emblems of Stability and Rest, An open panel showed the mummy's head, — — Her babe on knee, the new-made widow wept ; And last, behind, men who had loved the Dead, 102 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Beating their breasts, or with slow solemn step, Leaning on their tall staffs, brought up the long Procession. On they came, silent and slow. To where in awful semi-circle stood, On the Lake's bank, the Judges of the Dead. — The forty-two assessors, who should purge The soul of deadly sin, and grant the rites Of holy sepulchre, — while moored hard-by The Baris — the Dead's consecrated boat, — With Charon, its dark boatman, waiting lay, To bear the Acquitted o'er the Sacred Lake. — Then 'mid the silence of the awe-bound crowd, ^■^ Thus in the dead man's name the High-priest pled. " Let me know ye, oh ye the Lords of Truth, For I have brought ye Truth ! Rub ye away My faults ! " — Privily have I done no ill Against mankind ; — I have afflicted none ; — In Truth's Tribunal, lo, no lies I told ; — Of labouring man more than his daily task I have not asked, — nor idle have I been, — Nor weak was I, — nor what was hateful did Unto the gods. — Not falsely have I sworn Unto his master to the bondsman's hurt ; — I have not sacrificed, — nor made to weep, — Nor murdered, — nor given order privily To smite ; — nor men have I defrauded, — nor The country's measures changed ; — nor have I harmed The great gods' images ; — nor have I ta'en THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 103 Scraps of the Dead's last bandages, — nor spat Against the priest that serves my country's god. — Nor am I an adulterer ; — nor did I throw the weight out of the scale, — nor cheat In fair weight of the balance, — nor withhold Milk from the suckling's mouth ; — nor hunted I The wild beasts in their haunts, — nor netted I The sacred birds, — nor caught the fish, their types ; — I have not stopped the running stream, — nor from Its rightful current turned the water-course, — Nor at its proper hour put out a light, — Nor robbed the gods their haunches, — nor off-driven The cattle of the gods, — nor stopped a god From his manifestation. " I am pure ! Lo, I am pure ! Pure is the Phoenix great In Suten Khen. ^^ Hail ye ! ye gods within The Hall of Truth, whose bellies hold no lies. Who off the Dead in Annu live, their hearts Devour 'fore Horus in his Disk. Let ye No ill befall me in the land of Truths, For names of the great gods I know.^^ Save ye From Aa,^* — the god who on men's vitals feeds, — In day of the Great Judgment ; — I am pure ! Lo, I am pure ! — Stand forth who can deny ! " Deep silence followed, while the Assessors stood In expectation, and the surging crowd Swayed to and fro, awaiting some dread voice Of accusation 'gainst the mummied Dead, While minute rolled on minute, till, — the hour 104 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Of probate passed, — his glad acquittal rang From thousand throats. — " Let the Osiris go,^' For without fault is he. He lives off Truth, Off Truth he feeds. — Of the great gods and men To do the will is ever his delight. — ■ Lo, he hath given to the hungry, bread, Drink to the thirsty, to the naked, clothes ; — Therefore, before the mummies' lord, accuse Him not. His mouth is pure ! His hands are pure ! Unto the Lord of Truth, the Osiris hath Done Truth. Lo, he is pure ! In water pure His fore-part is, — in water twice distilled His hinder-part, — his middle in the well Of Truth, — no fault there is in him ! " Amid Their glad acclaim, within the Sacred Barge They laid the Dead, — the gold plate in his mouth, ^^ Passport of entrance to the blessed shore, — And slow, the attendant boat the Baris towed To Anch-ta's " Land of Life," across the lake.^^ " 'Tis but the symbol, son," the High-priest said, " Wherein the seer must read the hidden sense. — From man's poor judgment that denies or grants A grave, the Osiris passes now, before Quite other tribunal ; — Anubis there, ^^ In far Amenti^^ weighs in other scales The actions of his life, and the true Judge THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 105 Osiris, or condemns — back in the world As unclean beast to roam, — or Horus leads Into the presence of the Risen One, — With Isis and with Nepthys,^" wherfe he sits Within his palace, on his throne amid The waters, whence riseth the lotus-flower Whose white cup bears Amenti's genii. ^"^ — " — Go thou to On, my son, there shall they teach The symbol and the sense, — the outer life On earth, of justice and good deeds, death ends, — The inner too, that here begun, lives on, Hid in Osiris, aye, for evermore." IV In the great palace-halls the feast is done, Its glittering lights quenched in the coming day, And sleep's soft silence stills its merriment, While golden dawn behind the palm-trees lights The eastern sky, — as from the palace-gate The night's young hero turns towards the Nile. Glad is his heart this morn for he has laid At Merrhis' feet his hard won victory-crown, And in far Ethiopian land has raised -"^ ' To her name who had reared with mother's love, His grateful monument. — For years have passed. And Merrhis' Nile-given boy in priestly halls Of On has ta'en his place, wise 'mid the wise, In Mysteries of the gods, and arts of war And governance. Gracious his mien and grand. The princeliest son of Pharaoh's house, returned But yester-eve from distant conquest, glad He seeks the old dear palace by the Nile, And leads his Ethiope captives to the shrine Of Hor-fii-khuh, the god his childhood loved ; — Yet not complete his joy, till he can share THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 107 With Jochebed and Aniram in their cot ; — And there, through dewy fields his boyhood knew, From night's proud triumph, turn his eager feet. The cot is there, safe nestled as of yore Amid its palms, by the broad river's flow, The pearly tints of morn upon its breast. And all the earth seems jubilant with song, The reflex of his singing heart within. — But why the door unopened to the dawn That comes not e'er the bondsman's work begins ? A sudden fear griping his heart, he lifts The latch, and in the hut's dim twilight, sees Amram upon his knees, and on a mat, — Her gray hair o'er a wooden head-rest spread,^ — Lies his belovfed Jochebed, her face Pallid and pinched in the cold grasp of Death, While yet the half-glazed eyes strain eagerly Watching for coming footstep. — As the light From the half-opened door meets their dim gaze, With sudden cry the dying woman turns Her wrinkled face, with outstretched shrivelled hands In eager joy, " 'Tis he ! 'Tis he ! " she cries, " My son ! my son ! " — and Moses kneels to meet The feeble arms that clasp about his neck. And on his breast to raise the death-dewed head. — " Now praise be to the name of Israel's God, Who hath not yet forgot his covenant With Abraham our father, but hath sent io8 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES In His due time, Deliverer ! — For thou Art he, my son ! " — — In silence of the hut, — Broke but by stifled sobs where Amram sat With Miriam and Aaron, — in low tones Made solemn by the failing fluttering breath, Thus to her son the Hebrew mother spake : — " Well do I mind the night, — ah how forget Its hours of anguish and its joy of morn ! — All night I listed for his coming step That came not for my prayers, — at last, at dawn, When birdling's twitter, and faint stir of leaves Told coming day, — as one, drunken with wine. Who staggers home at morn, — I heard his foot, — My Amram's, — at our door, and sprang to greet. — Pale as the dead, as one in trance he stood, Yet in his eyes there burned anew the light Full well I knew of yore, ere weary years Of Pharaoh's bondage quenched its living flame. " ' Yellow the slanting rays of evening fell ' Through the tall bulrushes that fringe the Nile, My Jochebed,' he said, ' as hidden there I knelt amid the reeds, — " O God, how long 1 " I cried, — " God of our Father Abraham, Wilt thou forget the covenant thou swar'st To Isaac and to Jacob ? — Lo, we groan By reason of our taskmasters. Is thine Arm shortened that it cannot save ? — O God ! THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES i Can I forget the horrid jaws that oped Among the reeds, and the fierce hungry eyes That gloated o'er their prey — a helpless babe Engulfed to living death ? — How long, O God, How long ? " " ' The bitter sweat of anguish bathed My brow, as 'mid the flowering bulrushes, My soul wrestled with God, while the long rays Grew level, and the sun sank o'er the plain. And the brief twilight deepened into night. — The distant lights gleamed from Pi-Ramses' town Across the plain, and from mine own low cot. Hid in the palm-grove by the river's side, Where Jochebed with anxious heart, I knew. Prayed, — ^listening for my step the live-long night ; — Yet still I knelt on, lone beneath the stars, — My heart all black within me, for mine eyes Saw aye before them, 'mid the flowering reeds, The crocodile's black jaws gape for our babe. ,, — Sudden a calm, as from the o'ershadowing wing Of brooding Dove of Peace, sank o'er my soul, — And through the whispering reeds there came a Voice, As of their whisperings born, — " Fear not, Amram, No jaws of scaly monster of the Nile Shall close upon the babe that comes to thee, — Jochebed bears Israel's Deliverer." ' " She ended, and deep silence stilled each soul. As gasping low, — " Now have I lived enough Since I have given God's mission to my son," — Heavy her head sank dead on Moses' breast. no THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 'Mid the wild hills of Akita,* beneath The burning rays of Nubia's tropic sun, Where Ramses' captives washed the golden ore, In couples chained, 'neath the cruel hir-pit's lash, — A trembling Hebrew slave, who, day by day, With secret acid had dissolved the link That bound him to his fellow, — at the hour Of the short noontide respite from a toil That ended but in death, — while deep the sleep Of worn-out nature wrapt his comrade, — snapt The last frail filament, and stood, — alone And free — 'twixt burning sand and sky. — All slept, — Hir-pit and captives, — as he gazed around, A moment 'wildered 'neath the unwonted sense Of liberty and hope ; — as arrow then. By archer deft, sudden let loose from bow, — Silent and swift he fled.— Hill after hill He put betwixt him and his taskmasters, Until at last in lone Nubian waste, — A desert waterless, — faint and athirst, Amid its heaps of slag,^ he sank to rest ; — ^While far the shouts of his pursuers came. Borne on the silence of the desert air. To him crouched trembling in his hiding-place. The seventy days of mourning for the Dead, And brief embalming of the humble o'er, '^ THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES With heart that burned within him, Moses stood Beside the Hebrew tomb, wherein they left His Hebrew mother, gathered to her folk,'^ With Israel's God ; — no ritual of the Dead Chanted by priest and mourner round her tomb. But simply in His hand whose covenant Lasteth for aye. What surging of new thoughts Rose in him as he knew Israel's race His people, and their God his God ! — The lore Of On with all its Mysteries and rites Of Mnevis and Osiris, Amon-Ra, And Hor-m-khuh, couched in his moveless calm, — All swallowed in that Light, — in glory, white. Ineffable, — their dim rays merged in One. — The Nameless One, "worshipped in silence,"- hid Deep in the heart of that old Egypt's faith That deified His attributes, — glimpses Of whose majestic Robe had seemed to flit At moments in his sight, — but to be lost Ere grasped, behind the signs that hid it, — now Rose, glorious, shadeless, — Israel's One God, — The Living One, — all else but signs of Him. — And Israel's race his people — he must save ! — How at the thought old tales came back, of wrong And sore oppression hinted at by times. Yet half supprest within the bondsman's cot; And words of lofty scorn for Hebrew slaves, 112 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Scarce marked when heard in Pharaoh's haughty halls, — Remembered now, with burning shame and wrath ! Scarce knew he where he trod, as dazed, he turned From that poor Hebrew tomb, to seek the home. Where, with a mother's pride, fair Merrhis watched His coming. — Ah, how now could he be called The son of Pharaoh's daughter, — he, the hope Of Israel's down-trod race ? — And yet, how grieve The mother's heart that beat so warm for him In that proud queenly breast ? — Sore questioning He wandered on, — far from Pi-Ramses' shrines. Far from the green-verged Nile, verdant with fields And palms ; — nor raised his eyes, until a cry Of anguish smote his ear y — and round he saw The Desert's sand, — and for sole! living thing A taskmaster of Pharaoh, who, with blows Drave on before, a bleeding Hebrew slave, — He who from Akita's dread mines had sought Freedom or death. Oft 'neath the rod Fainting and helpless on the sand he fell. Till the cruel lash brought back the ebbing sense, To struggle on again, — again to fall. — Hot flamed the Hebrew blood in Moses' veins. As on the tyrant hir-pit swift he turned ^ In righteous wrath, — and with one well-dealt blow. From the skilled arm, beside his victim laid Lifeless upon the desert ! THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 113 — Round he gazed, — No eye, save the poor slave's he saved, was there To see the deed, as in the shifting sand He hid the dead Egyptian. — 'Twas first deed He deemed of his great mission, — as beneath A palm that rose alone amid the waste. Wrapt in his mantle, on that fateful night, He laid him down to sleep beneath the stars ; — But not as ours are God's times, — not the first Blast of His trumpet means the battle won ; — Ere next eve's stars' bright eyes looked down, — dis- dained By his own folk, — fleeing from Pharaoh's wrath, — He roamed, an outcast in the wilderness ! V The evening meal is spread within the tent Beneath the palms, as an old Midian priest ^ Sits in its door, watching the sunset die O'er distant Sinai, — Reguel, "friend of God." — Around, the black tents of his wandering tribe Rise 'neath the grateful shade, and tinklings soft Come on the evening air from far-off flocks Driving to pasture from the distant wells. — A nomad tribe of Abram's scattered race. Shifting their tents as eact green grazing-ground Grows bare and yellow as the months go by. — No certain dwelling-place, — their home where'er The grass grows green, and wells are 'neath the palms. Upon the Red Sea's shore. Thoughtful he sits And sad, while the red light dies out along The hill-tops. — He has striven, all his life long. In the wilS breasts of Abram's Bedouin sons To keep alight some spark of Abram's Faith, Nigh lost in heathen darkness. — Has he failed ? — So wild and rude the shepherds of his tribe And scornful of his counsel. — He is old, — THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES In some oasis when his grave grows green, What hand shall lift the torch his hand lets fall ? — Shall not the outer darkness swallow it ? — So, while the sun set, cried his heart to God. — A burst of laughter and soft song, — and through The dusky palms, — their pitchers poised on brow. And graceful rounded arms, all smooth and brown, Upraised to steady them, — o'er small brown feet Their bangles tinkling 'neath their cloths' white folds,— His troop of daughters come back from the well ; — Their soft dark eyes lustrous o'er eager tale Of princely son of Egypt who had driven, — Such his sole might, — the rude wild shepherds back, And watered all their flocks. " — ^Where is the man ? Wherefore left ye the stranger who hath dealt Thus kindly by us ? — Bid him to eat bread ; " With Arab courtesy the old sheikh said. — And glad the maidens hastened to obey. — Did Reguel know God's answer to the prayer. From his sad heart that rose beneath the palms, When, 'mid his wandering tribe of Abram's race, This homeless son of Abram found a home ? Sunset upon the Desert ; ^ every peak Ii6 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES A glory of strange colours, as beneath Great Horeb's shade, a shepherd leads his flocks To pasture in the green oasis hid 'Mid Sinai's awful solitudes. Around, Wide spreads the boundless wilderness, — above. In rugged chaos, tower the mighty peaks Of naked granite, shadowing the lone And narrow vale, — the winter-torrent's bed, — Where, on the pale-green herbage, Reguel's flocks. On scented shrubs, feed 'mid the acacia groves. A lonely shepherd in an alien's land. This son of Pharaoh's daughter, — famed in On, Wisest among the wise, — renowned in war. Far Ethiopia's conqueror, — foretold, Israel's deliverer, — a fugitive From Pharaoh's wrath, — by his own folk disdained, A simple shepherd leaning on his crook ! — Nought gained in all those silent years, save lore Of Sinai's solitudes. — Dreams of a life Long past, seem now the hopes that stirred him, as He stood beside his mother's tomb, and burned To bear the burden of God's mission laid By her dead hand upon him. — He has lived Many a life since then, and many a hope Has made his heart its tomb. — No longer now, Moses of the impetuous hand, who slew The tyrant task-master, nor he, of quick, Unasked-for, generous speech, who strove to right His brethren's quarrel. — Patience, — Hope, no more THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 117 Hath been his comrade now these many years, Where his sad heart has named his first-born son, "Gershom," — "a stranger in a stranger's land."— Yet in these mountain solitudes, where voice Ne'er brake the solemn stillness, — or when morn Tinged the great peaks with blue and golden light, Or when the eve shadowed them to its hushed And rosy rest, — a mighty Presence aye Seemfed to fill their silence with the sense Of an o'ershadowing omnipresent Life ; — Till in the boundless sea of Him who Is, The passing bubble of man's life seemed lost. 'Twas then the call came ; — when himself no more Willed aught, saving His will, who is, and was. And is to be, — and from the acacia grove ^ That burned and yet consumed not, on the slope Of Horeb lone, the all-pervading Voice That spake through all their solitudes, took words, " Get thee to Pharaoh ?"—" Who am I to go ?"— "Surely I wt'll he with thee." — The dread awe Of that great Presence bowed his heart ; — yet how To name the Nameless One * who made for him All earth and sky one Temple full of God, And filled hoar Sinai's vales with. His great voice, Articulate at last ? — How make the sons Of Israel to hear the echoes of that Voice From out the fire, that burned consuming not ? — " Thus shalt thou say, I am sent me to you." ii8 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Brightly the moon gleams on the great lagoons,* And thickets of papyrus, — where cranes build Their nest, and herons and king-fishers bend Their long thin necks above the briny marsh, Watching their prey, — round Pithom's new-built town; — As, at the dead of night, a company Of old bent men stand on the lonely shore, 'Mid the great silent lakes. — Breathless they stand, As one amidst them speaks in eager tones, Yet hushed, as fearful.—" 'Tis the Living One, — God of our fathers Abraham, Isaac, And Jacob, who hath sent us, — see His sign." And one who stands hard by, in shepherd's garb. Casts on the ground his crook, — and lo, it writhes A living serpent ! — " 'Tis His sign— Kerch, Ankh's symbol ! — 'Tis the Living One," they cry, " He comes to save ; " — and 'neath the moon, great tears Gleam from dim eye and furrowed cheek ; — " 'Tis He ; " They said, and bowed their heads and worshipped. Midnight again, upon the sandy dunes Round Pithom's town ;-.— but now no more the moon Sees her bright face reflected in the wave. Where the fair lakes of winter gleamed j — nought now Save one vast solitude, — a sea of sand. Thick-strewn with white-flowered isles of reed and thorn. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES U9 — Again a gathering, — old men and young, Maidens, and mothers with their babes, — but not With bent heads now, reverent beneath the stars. Loud murmurings break on the still midnight air. And angry faces gleam beneath the moon : — " No straw, and yet the tale of bricks the same ! We will to Pharaoh ! — Was it not enough. From Horus rising till Tum sinks to rest To labour at the bricks ? — Now must the moon Look down upon the children scattered o'er ♦ The stubble-fields, seeking for straw ? — Night, yet The cruel Day's live-long labour, all undone ! " Morn on Pi-Ramses city, — and without The palace gates, a crowd of downcast men With ashes on their heads, as slow they turn Back from Mineptah's halls their hopeless steps. ° — No word is spoken, — Pharaoh's answer lies Too heavy on each heart ; — the bondsman's soul, — Long bowed beneath its burden, knows it now Too grievous for the quivering flesh to bear, — Crushed to the earth in silence as of death. So went they sorrowing, until a flash Of "brief bright anger, like a lightning stroke, Ran through their drooping ranks, as they behold The spokesman and the wonder-worker, whose The words by Pithom's lakes, — a message deemed From Him, the Living One, their Others' God, 120 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Who came to save; — had wrought this further woe : — " Wherefore have ye dealt thus with us," they cry, " To make us stink in Pharaoh's nostrils ? — Curst Be your fool's fancy of a sacrifice Unto Jehovah in the wilderness, Who came to save ! " The rising moon, that night, That looked down on the children seeking straw, Saw too, — ^where a great fig tree's dark green leaves Glistened beneath its light, — a man, prostrate In agonised entreaty on the sod. Wrestling with God. Scarcely his prayer found words Saving the cry, — half inarticulate, — Breaking from breaking heart : " Why, O Lord, why ? " — Again the attempt to do God's mission, met Again by yet more dire disaster. Was It then indeed God's mission, — or the words That thrilled through Amram's soul among the reeds. Foretelling Israel's saviour, — and the Voice That seemed to speak aloud from out the fire. Amid hoar Sinai's solitudes, — but dreams Of minds silence and servitude had crazed ? — The old, old question, old as human woe, And seeking human arms, that through the dark. Reach out, if they may find the Unknown God, Whose ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts As thoughts of ours, yet who shall lead the bhnd By ways they know not, — who i' the dark must teach Trust and Obedience, ere the dayspring rise Of Light and Liberty, THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES What failure now, If the event be sure in His good time ? — Hid in the eternal purposes of Him Who Is, — with whom a thousand years are as One day. — The answer came : " Now shalt thou see What I will do. Pharaoh with a strong hand Shall drive them front his land. I am Jehovah." VI Noon in Mineptah's palace. — At its gate,^ State-chariots, — whose running footmen bare Gay sun-shades overhead,- — and palanquins Slave-borne, bring courtly guests to Pharaoh's feast. — About its doors throng servants of all hues, From Ethiope's shining ebon, bearing stool For lighting from the chariot, to the fair Dardanian maid, who holds her mistress' fan And writing-tablets. — Within the inner court. The palace-slaves hold golden basins, filled With scented water for each comer's feet. And with their cool soft hands anoint each guest From vases rare, with welcome of sweet ointment, , In every hand placing a lotus-flower. And with its garlands, decking brow and breast. Through rich rooms perfumed with frankincense rare To dulcet strains of lute and harp, — while slaves Hand costly sweetmeats upon golden trays, — Wander the royal guests, with soft exchange Of talk and smiling courtesies, till called To sit at meat with great Mineptah, where,^ — Royally apparelled, in an apron decked THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 123 With lions' heads and asps, and upper robe Of finest linen bound about his loins With jewelled girdle, 'neath the square beard tied Upon his chin, — a wig plaited and curled. Flower-crowned and bound with asps upon his brow ; — — He sits as host in the vast palace hall, Before him a great vase of lotus-flowers. On his left hand, with Horus-locks unshorn, The Prince, his son, the Pharaoh yet to be ; Loi, the High-priest of Anion, he who builds ^ Mineptah's sepulchre ; — Mas, " the King's son Of Kush," who rules the south ; — and round about, In brilliant galaxy, the temple scribes Renowned in letters, — Ga-ga-bu, Anna, Hor, Mer-em-aput, and he who wrote For Pharaoh's royal princes, the great tale Of "The two Brothers."— On the King's right hand, The Queen,* with bevy of fair ladies, — gay In gown and sash and shoulder-strap Of gorgeous colours, 'neath the fine soft white Of linen robe knotted beneath the breast. — The dark hair triply plaited, falling o'er The shapely neck, half-hides the ear-rings, carved Of gold and precious stones, in shape of asp. Or wound about the head with golden fillet. Whence falls a lotus-bud, o'er soft dark brows ; — — Their lustrous eyes, shining out star-like 'neath The painted hds. 124 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 'Mid laughter soft, circles The flower-crowned wine-cup. — ^With costliest meats, — Geese, game, and fish, and roasted ibex, grapes. Fresh dates, and figs of sycamore, — the board Is crowned. Around,^- — as feast's fit close, — has passed Osiris' wooden mummy, that reminds Midst Life of Death ; — and dancing men and maids. With grace of rhythmic motion, to the chant Of far-off voices, and soft strain of harp And lute, stir the intoxate sense. — Sudden O'er all a darkness as of death ! Dread fear And tremblings as of doomsday, as each guest Gropes for his fellow in the grave-like gloom ! — Silence, awe-struck at first — then hubbub wild Of hurried low-toned speech and women's sobs ; — Until at length from out the noise confused One solemn voice emerges as spokesman For all. " O Pharaoh, live for ever ! Let Bin-ra hearken unto his servants. — Lo, The Hebrews' God is terrible !— This dark At noon, is it not but the dreadful shade Of His destroying wing ? — We feast, — ^yet lies Not every heart as lead within its breast ? — Lo, the land perisheth, — thy servants die ! — Strong is His arm, — provoke no more His wrath, But let the people go, do sacrifice THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 125 Unto Him in the wilderness as He Hath said. — " Hath He not sent us signs, O King ? — First the great serpent, born of Moses' crook, That swallowed all thy wise Khartumim's asps.® — Then at the early dawn when Pharaoh paid His offerings to great Hapi, did the Nile's Pure fructifying wave not blush blood-red Beneath Mineptah's eyes and all life die, — Till Egypt's blessing grew her putrid curse ? — Were not thy servants plagued with frogs and gnats And dog-flies till life grew a burden ? — Then The cattle died, smitten with murrain ; — men Went crazed with blains that burned into the flesh ; — And man and beast and tree, barley and flax. Perished beneath the hail mingled with fire That ran along the ground ; — and what the hail Spared, — the yet tender wheat, — the locusts ate. — Lo, the whole land is waste ! — And now this gloom At noon, — darkness that may be felt ! — ^What more But death ? — Wherefore, O Pharaoh, give thou ear, And let the people go, — for stronger He, The Hebrews' God, Jehovah, — than thy gods, OKing!" — Then in the darkness Pharaoh feared And called Jehovah's messengers, yet when The light returned, hardened his heart, — " Go, see My face no more ! " — And sad the Seer replied, " Well say'st thou, ' Ye shall see my face no more.' " 126 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Night o'er the land. — Soft darkness spreads its wing Over Mineptah's palace, and each home, lofty And lowly where Egyptians dwell in great Pi-Ramses, sleeping 'neath the stars ; — but light. Cautiously hid, burns secretly within Each Hebrew hut, and on each door-sill gleams A red streak 'neath the moon. — No slumber wraps This night, the labour-weary slave, to short Forgetfulness ; — in every mud-built hut. By flickering lamp, the family group, — strong men And old, women and babes, — stands round the board Eating with trembling lips a hasty meal. Staff in their hands, and sandals on their feet, Ready for sudden march. — No word is said, But every ear, strains as for looked-for sound. Thrilling the midnight's silence. — Hark ! it comes ! A stir, — a rustle, — lights in Egypt's homes ; — Then a wild wail of anguish throbbed up to The silent stars ! — In each Egyptian house, Palace as cot, — the eldest born lies dead ! — Then hurrying steps around the Hebrews' huts, — Pale faces wild with anguish and dismay, — And quivering lips that cry, — " Thus Pharaoh saith, — ' Go get ye gone.' Lo, we be all dead men !" THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 12; A mighty camp beside Sirbonis gulf '^ At Pi-hakhiroth, — Baal-zephon in front, Sacred to Amon the bird-catching god, Who haunts the wide lagoons, where grows the tall Papyrus on the Sea of Weeds. — By day, Above their heads, the cloudy pillar shields From noon-tide heat, and changed to fire, illumes The desert darkness of their camp by night, —Visible Presence in their midst, of Him Who guides. — But who come yonder ? — What that noise Like rushing wind across the sandy plain ? — The hosts of Egypt and Mineptah ! — Then A mighty wail beside the weedy sea, " Were there no graves in Egypt, that ye brought Us here into the wilderness to die ? " Then stood the Seer forth, — grand among his people, — " Fear not," he said. " Stand still. Jehovah shall Fight for you, ye shall hold your peace." And lo. The pillared fire, — that bright through midnight shone On Israel's tents, — drew veil of darkness deep As death, 'twixt them and the Egyptians, while The sea, rushing before a mighty wind. Left, at first morning's watch, 'neath their glad eyes, A dry road through the deep ! — Then when in dawn's 128 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Faint gleam, the Egyptians saw and followed, God Looked down, and in the marshy bogs took off Their chariot wheels, — their frighted steeds plunging Amid the mire, — till Israel passed over. And ireful Sea, — all night by Dry-land robbed Of her domain, — in one o'erwhelming tide Swept back ; — and, 'neath no changeless pyramid. Built for the ages of their giant rest, — But in the briny depths, glittering with dawn, 'Neath everchanging waves, — the haughty hosts Of Pharaoh found an unmarked sepulchre ! Then the glad triumph poured from thousand throats. As Moses and the ransomed people sang. And Miriam's and the women's voices rang, — With timbrel and with dance, — answering their strain " I will sing to Jehovah, He Hath triumphed gloriously ; The horse too and his rider. He Hath thrown into the sea. Jehovah is my strength and song. And my salvation," , He is my God, for Him I'll make An habitation. My fathers' God, Him I'll exalt, A Man of war is He, The Lord Jehovah is His name, He cast into the sea All Pharaoh's hosts and chariots. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 129 His captains choice each one Sank drowned in the Red Sea ; the deeps Cover them, as a stone To the depths went they down. O Lord, Thy right hand's glorious In power, in pieces it doth dash Thy foes victorious. In greatness of Thine excellency Thou overthrowest them Who 'gainst Thee rise. Thou sendest forth Thy wrath, as stubble's stem They are consumed. — The floods were piled Before Thy nostrils' blast, The waters stood on heaps, the deeps Congealed as it past In the sea's heart. — The enemy said, ' I will pursue, I will O'ertake, I will divide the spoil. On them my lust shall still Be satisfied, my sword I'll draw. My hand shall them devour.' — Then didst Thou blow with Thy great wind. The sea covered them o'er, They in great waters sank as lead. — O Lord, who is like Thee ? Glorious in holiness, among ' The gods who is like Thee, Fearful in praise, who wonders dost ? — Thine hand Thou outstretchbdst, The earth did swallow them. — Thy folk Redeemed, in mercy ledst K I30 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Thou to Thy dwelling-place, In Thy strength Thou didst guide ; — The peoples heard, they shook, pangs took Philistia's folk, — beside. The Dukes of Edom are amazed, — Of Moab, the men of might Trembling lays hold, — all Canaan's folk Away are melted quite. Terror and dread on them doth fall, As a stone are they still, By greatness of Thine arm, till all Thy people pass, until Over the people pass, O Lord, Whom Thou hast purchased ; In mount of Thine inheritance They shall be stablished ; To place Thou mad'st for Thee to dwell, Thou bringst, to Sanctuary, By Thine own hands established. — The Lord shall reign for ever and for aye.'' And women's answering voices rang again- " Sing ye unto the Lord, for He Hath triumphed gloriously ; The horse too and his rider, He^ Hath thrown into the sea." VII Moses on Pisgah " ' Get thee to Mbo,' ^ so Jehovah said, 'And see the Land, but there thou shalt not come.' — For I have sinned, and righteous is the Lord, — For ever bless His name. — So from this plain ^ On Pisgah's rugged top, mine eyes must look . Before me and behind, on all the way The Lord hath led, and leads, though thither I May not go up. " — There, in yon Shittim groves * Beneath the hill, dwarfed by the distance, lie The tents of Israel that I shall see No more, — my children, I have laboured for And led these forty years, — and now may lead No longer ; — but He stays who aye hath led, — What matter that I go ? — Nay, better so. Mayhap ; — so they may learn the more to lean On Him. — ' The eternal God their dwelling-place,* And underneath the everlasting arms.' — No fear for Israel, whom God hath led He leads unto the end. — ' Happy art thou, 132 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES O Israel ; who is like unto thee, A people saved by God.' — So, on this hill, Balaam the S5n:ian seer, whom Ealak brought ^ To curse us for reward, — whose curses God Changed into unmeant blessings on his tongue, — — Seeing the white tents gleam, unwilling spake. " Now will I look before me and behind, — For I am come, alone, on this wild rock To die.— Never in Abram's cave my bones May rest, like Joseph's we have borne with us ^ These forty years ; — no pious hand embalm These agfed limbs, and lay, with words of hope Writ on their swathings of pure linen, ^ — while The Soul still haunts its old companion,* — down, Reverent within the tomb. — The eagle from Her eyrie will descry, with her bright eyes, A Something still and silent, and rejoice. And circling down will swoop upon the prey To feed her young. — For I have sinned, and Thou Art righteous. Lord. " — Let me retrace the way The Lord hath led, since that great night of joy We walked betwixt the walls of waters, saved By His right hand. " — A mighty host we went, — Pitching our tents upon the Desert sands, Their camp-fires' glow reddening the waste beneath The stars, and that strange pillared Brightness o'er THE PURPOSE OF. THE AGES 133 Our heads that made night shine as day ; — or by The well, with its few palms, o'er which, at noon, — While flocks and herds cropped the pale herbage grown On the scant sandy soil, and women nursed Their babes, and old and weary rested glad Beneath its shade, — the Cloudy Pillar stayed, Brooding majestic o'er the various host. — " By Marah's bitter Lakes,^ whose sweetened wave Gave new proof of His care whose Presence guides ; — By EUm's green oasis with its palms ^^ And living springs ; — and through Sin's sandy waste,^^ — Where, at the people's cry, 'neath balmy breath Of summer nights, the thorny tamarisk shed ^^ Its honey globules with the dew of dawn ; And ' 'twixt the evenings ' as the twilight fell,'" The wearied quails, winging their northward flight From Afric, dropped by thousands round the camp; — — Onward to Rephidim,^* whose smitten rock Gushed water for the murmuring host that lay Parching with thirst, outside the lovely vale, — Whose miles of palms trail their long branches o'er ^^ Its purling stream, 'twixt mighty Serbal's walls Of many-hufed rock, — guarded by fierce Amalekites,^^ — the desert's sons, — eager To swoop on the unarmed camp that lay Too near their date-palms and their water-springs. "Then the first battle in Jehovah's might, When Joshua led, and on the lone hill-top Aaron and Hur upheld the faltering hands ^'^ 134 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES That turned the tide of battle from afar, Still outstretched up to God. — Then Reguel came,^* God's friend and mine, — hearing, 'mid pastures far, Of God's deliverance, — brought me the boys And Zipporah to our wild Desert camp ; — With Arab courtesies and counsels wise, Lightening my load and making glad my heart. " So, on to Sinai, where at first God's voice, 'Mid silence of the everlasting hills. Spake with me all alone from out the fire ; Now, — as that Voice foretold, — a mighty host We came to worship in .that mountain. — No Wandering shepherd now who heard His voice Amid the stillness trace his own lone path, — But Leader, willed by that same Voice to guide Jehovah's host. — Nor Israel's host alone, — ^Who trembling crouched beneath the dreadful Mount Upon whose top the Lord came down in fire. And 'mid its thunders spake His awful Will Which whoso living breaks must surely die ; — — But to all time, God's Law-giver, who stands On that lone Sinai peak, 'twixt Earth and Heaven ; — Seer, who through the clouds and darkness dared To pierce to God, and to man's vision dim Reveal the mighty Presence that for him Fills Earth and Heaven; — to list 'the still small Voice,' And to the crowd — ^who hear but as it thundered — Interpret that great over-ruling Will In Laws to guide man's Ufa. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 135 " — This my true mission, — My mission to all times. — But Israel would Not hear ! — E'en while the darkness and the cloud Hid me upon the Mount, — that darkness which Was but the shadow of His wing, — did they Not make the golden Mnevis-calf and dance Naked before it, while the people sang ' These be thy gods, O Israel' ?— Did. they Not fear e'en the poor brightness of my brow, —Call for a veil betwixt that reflex faint Caught from the Light of Light behind the cloud ? — They would not hear, — shrank from the searching Light Of that great Will, which whoso breaks must die ; — Hence all the rest. " ' — He cannot look on sin,' — — 'Tis this they say, these hundred thousand graves ^^ Dug in the sand of Paran's wilderness, — 'Tis this it says, that rock-hewn sepulchre In Kadesh where we laid Miriam to rest,^" — 'Tis this, that tomb, where lone Mount Hor looks down^^ On white hills of the wilderness o'er vale Of 'Arabah, speaks to the silent rocks. Amid whose Nature-castled towers, we stript The holy garments from the Lord's High-priest, And gave them to his son. — From the great heap Of stones o'er him that gathered sticks ; ^^ — from out The fire, — flashing from Tent of Meeting that Devoured Nadab and Abihu f^ — and from That circling flame around the awful Mount j^* — 136 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES Still sound the same dread words, — ' Lo, they have sinned. And righteous is the Lord.' " Not much it seemed ^^ To smite the cliff in Kadesh, as the rock In Horeb whence the waters flowed, — but God Bade speak, therefore to smite was sin. — I feared To trust His word, trusted His rod, not Him. — /, who had stood on Sinai's awful peak, And 'mid its thunders heard the ' still small Voice,' — Beheld the Glory wrapt within the cloud ! — Meet is it I should die without the Land, — I, whom Jehovah spake with as His friend, — Who yet dared disobey. " —Yet loved I not His Voice, and trusted all these forty years ? — To fail at last ! — O perfect Law of God, Whose least is as its greatest, — my Soul's Life, — — Who is enough for thee ? " — As now I look Before me and behind, from this last peak. Whence I can trace my path, from that rough ark Of bulrushes upon the Nile, to this Lone death outside the Land. — Life's lesson this. — Taught by the waters of that whelming wave That sepulchred Mineptah's haughty hosts ; — Taught in the awful Mount 'mid cloud and fire ; — Taught in the desert wanderings, where our way Is tracked but by our graves ; — and best taught here, Where I, myself, without the Land must die. THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 137 " — The goodly Land, with its fair river, stretched A garden of the Lord, beneath my feet, — — Its vine-clad slopes, and grassy vales, and glades On wooded hillsides, and its Jordan's plains One wilderness of flowers ; — the Promised Land, Flowing with milk and honey. — How I longed For its cool verdure, and its gushing streams. And gray-green olive shade, and tendrilled vines, Circling the Desert all these arid years ! — Jehovah's Land, — His gift, — worthy of Him, — Yonder it lies before me, — all I dreamed Of peacefulness and rest ; — but see ! — between, The blue clear waters of the Sea of Salt, — Old record of God's judgments, — gleam, as with Sin's lurid light, — dividing from its shores ! — 'Tis as I were the Soul, in mummied form So oft I've seen the mourners bring with flowers Heaped on its boat, down to the Sacred Lake Of Mennofer or On, where solemn wait The Judges of the Dead, — and at the charge Of the High-priest, there rose from out the crowd A voice, — ' He is not worthy, he hath sinned.^ — And sadly, with no rites of sepulchre. This side the Lake, they laid the unblest corse ! " 'Twas meant for me, — that Land with its sweet rest, — God meant it,^yet, now it shall not be mine ; — So may we thwart His purposes, e'en His ! —And yet, meseems, almost I'm glad, — glad that It comes too late, — the Land and all its rest, — For / am I, — unworthy of the Land, 138 THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES And Israel, — the old stiff-necked Israel, Unworthy too. — Better it is, meseems. That the sweet dream be mine, unmarred, undimmed With all too flawed fruition ; — that for aye. Its vineyards and its olive-gardens lie Within my soul, all bathed in soft sunshine. Unstained by blood or tears ; — for not e'en there, The harvest were as seed-time, fruit as bloom. — And He has let mine eyes behold its rest, — The Land is there, — is all He promised ; — — No word of His hath failed, — all failure mine. " But what of parted Soul, — whose Body lies. As mine, unblest with burial, this side The Lake, — when He, Osiris figures, tests • The wavering balance at the Day of Doom ? — There, other than Anubis holds the scales. And for far other judgment ; — not good deeds 'Gainst bad in each man's life, — but Life, entire And whole, — against Thy perfect Law, O God ! — Then who may stand in tkaf arraignment ? "— Naj Thy covenant endures, — though I have sinned ; — My God, forever and forever. — Sin Changes not that, — mine when He punishes As when He saves ! "— The blessfed Dead Live in Osiris, — so the legend runs I learned long since at queenly Merrhis' feet, — Can I then fall from His life whose the name THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 139 ' The Living One ' ? — We pass, but He endures, Ay, and His covenant stands, — His covenant With me. — ' Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place Before the mountains were brought forth, or ere Thou'dst formed the world, from everlasting Thou To everlasting God.' " — I would not Thou Wert less than righteous. — Gracious too. — My Life Sees its accomplishment, and from afar Joys with the joy of harvest. — ' 'Stablish Thou My work upon me, — yea, my hand's work, Lord, Thou dost establish it.' " — And for my sin, — — What shall I say ? — With Thee is healing. Lord. — Didst Thou not in the desert bid me raise The Brazen Serpent, that who looked might live ? — Doth not the blood within the veil sprinkle The mercy-seat ? — Lo, I have laid my hand ^^ Upon the Scape-goat's head, and he hath gone Forth to the wilderness, bearing away Thy people's sins into forgetfulness ; — — ^Wilt Thou not then remember it no more ? " For I am come to die. — This night's first star Shall shed its light, down on the unclosed eyes. That yet gleam back no answer. — Jackals creep Cautious among the rocks, to see what lies So still beneath the moon. — The eagle's eye Descry it from her eyrie and rejoice, I4P THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES As circling down she seeks her meat from God. — And vultures crowd to pick the white bones bare ! — Then where shall hovering Spirit find again Its old companion, when it comes to seek ? The sacred Heart itself, perhaps become ^ A part of vulture or of eagle ? "—Nay, What do I say ? — Will He not still be here, Whose, — not the Soul alone, but all the five,^^ — Soul, Mind, Life, Body, Shade, — that make up me ? Will He not care for all ? — Though I have sinned And so must die, — for righteous is the Lord. — — Yea, I am well assured, no vulture's claw Or eagle's talon, shall pluck out the heart That's stayed on Him. " No friendly human hand May close these weary lids, or straight the limbs, Or swathe in wrappings of pure linen, — then His own the task. — With hollow of His own Right hand He'll hide the blank death-glazfed eye, — His fingers which have fashioned shall lay To their long rest, in ordered symmetry The limbs He made ; — His veil of cloud enwrap In folds of softest white. These rocks shall be A ' Pyramid of Lights ' above my dust, — God's building and not man's, — most blessfed so. " — For He is here. I feel His Presence nigh, Close by me though unseen, — as when, long since, That over-shadowing Presence grew a Voice Out of the fire on Horeb, — and again THE PURPOSE OF THE AGES 141 When His great cloud enwrapped me, and I knew The Hidden Glory on the awful Mount. — Lo ! Lord I take the shoes from off my feet, This hill-top too is holy, — Thou art here. — Thou who hast been our dwelling-place before The mountains were brought forth,' — Thyself shalt hide This mortal form, — ^where human foot ne'er treads. Within the bosom of Thy mighty hills ; — And 'underneath the Everlasting Arms.' — — The Burial God's, and God's the Monument. " — Again Thy cloud enwraps me, — to abide This time. — No more to need a veil to hide Thy Light reflected on my face, from eyes Too weak to bear a reflex e'en so faint Of Thy great Light of Light within the veil ; — — Ne'er to descend this time, — but to abide, — Rapt to the Hidden Glory evermore ! " BOOK III FREEDOM [MANHOOD] tav o5v 6 vtbs vficii eXtvOepuxTr], ovtcos eXevdepoi i