Classic Poem

And as they wandered through the desert wild
He told unto the shy, attentive child
Strange legends of the past and wondrous stories
Of Noah, the ark and the redeeming dove,
Of Enoch's faith and of Jehovah's love,
Of Adam's sin and of Edenic glories.

He spoke of the great flood that marred the world,
By God indignant to destruction hurled,
When He in myriad waters grandly thundered;
He told of Cain's red, bitter crime, and how
God set a mark upon his livid brow,
While the delighted child in rapture wondered.

In such wise were the weary moments passed,
But in the torrid desert scorched and vast
No sign of Hagar came upon the morrow,
And in the pitiless and blinding sand,
Chartless, irresolute and most unmanned,
The humbled patriarch mourned in direst sorrow.

The path no more was clear unto his eyes
Beneath the intolerant glare of sullen skies.
Aimless as wind-blown leaves he went and wandered.
With none to guide him on the ardent way,
The sand alone around him, and dismay
Seized his strong heart, while desolate he pondered.

“Fit punishment is this!” he cried, and fell
Where death dawned livid unto Ishmael,
“God has ordained that I and mine shall perish!
Here in this waste, parched, destitute and numb,
I must await the vengeance that will come
To rob me of the only son I cherish!”

The agonizing thought all hope dismayed;
In vain, and knowing prayer in vain, he prayed,
And of all sinning bitterly repented!
The torrid twilight swooned upon his pain,
And then upon the broad and boundless plain,
Clasped in his arms the suffering child lamented.

On acrid herbs and locusts then they fed,
In harrowing distress uncomforted,
Until even these with arduous searching failed him,
And Abram's mind, as one struck down by plague,
Wandered in sad confusion vexed and vague,
While languors he had never known assailed him.

Madness as sudden as a leaping flame
Burst on his hoary forehead marked by shame,
And in a trance he heard a voice mysterious
Cry: “Abram, expiate thy cruel crime!
In thy distress be patient and sublime,
Poor Hagar's voice cries out in wrath imperious.

“Sacrifice Isaac, glory of thine eyes!
The God who thy fidelity now tries,
Though cruel, still retains sweet balm of pardon;
Give unto him thy only treasured son,
Isaac, the one thou lovest to look upon;
Before his frailty let thy warm heart harden.”

And Abram, harking to the voices, cried:
“Oh God! thou didst unto me say in pride,
When in thy graciousness my soul did slumber,
That like the perfect stars that haunt the sky,
And like the sand-grains that about me lie,
My seed would be in beauty and in number!