Betwixt Eden and the trumpet ushering in the great To

be.

Nathless storms were rife, and rumors each the other chased from Rome,

Though their echo knock'd but feebly at the porch of that far home;

And they scarcely stirr'd the pulses in the old man's languid heart,

As he pled the prayer of Simeon, "Let me now in peace depart;"

Scarcely jarr'd the heavenly foretastes of the rapt Eliza

beth,

Oft as was her wont repeating, "Welcome life, thrice

welcome death."

Droop'd they both with drooping autumn, with the dying year they died,

And in one deep stony chamber slumber sweetly side by

side;

But before they slept confided to the Baptist's ear a story, Richer heirloom, loftier honor than the wide world's

wealth and glory :—

From his sire he heard the marvel of his own predestined

birth,

From his mother's lips a mystery which transcends all things of earth.

Now the lonely home was lonelier, now the silence more

unmarr'd,

Now his rough-spun dress was rougher, and his hardy fare

more hard.

Yet he moved not. God who guided Israel o'er the track

less waste,

When his hour was come, would call him; and with God there is no haste.

Meanwhile of all sacred stories, which his bosom fired and

fill'd,

One, the Tishbite, more intensely through and through his bosom thrill'd.

O that sacrifice on Carmel; -O that fire that fell from

O that nation's shout "Jehovah ; "— O that bloody stormy

even;

O that solitary cavern ; O that strong and dreadful wind; Rocking earthquake, flames of vengeance; O that still small Voice behind:

Those long years of patient witness, crown'd by victory at

last:

Israel's chariot, Israel's horsemen ! like a dream the vision

pass'd.

"Would to God the prophet's mantle might but fall upon

*my soul !

Would to God a seraph touch me with Esaias' living coal!"

As he pray'd, his soul was troubled with a sudden storm of thought,

And again was hush'd in silence with profounder feeling

fraught:

And the Spirit's accents,

fell,

whether on his mortal ear they

Or without such audience trembled on his spirit, none

might tell,

But they came to him. The altar had been built and piled

and laid:

God himself alone must kindle that which He alone had

made.

Through the crowded streets of Salem, see, they whisper

man to man,

Like a flash of summer lightning through the heavens,

the tidings ran:

"In the wilderness by Jordan unto us a Voice is sent,

God is on His way.

Repent."

His herald cries before He comes,

On the mart of busy traffic, on the merchant's growing

hoard,

On the bridegroom's perfumed chamber, on the banquet's festive board,

On the halls where pleasure squander'd all the heaps of

avarice,

On the dreams of blind devotion, on the loathsome haunts

of vice,

Like a thunder-roll the tidings fell, and lo! the sudden

gloom

Then and there gave fearful presage of the coming day of

doom.

But the workman left his workshop, and the merchant left

his wares,

And the miser left his coffers, and the Pharisee his prayers: From Jerusalem to Jordan, see they pour a motley group, Young men, maidens, old men, children, priests and people,

troop on troop:

Neighbor thought not now of neighbor, parent scarcely thought of child:

There were few who spoke or answer'd, there were none

who jeer'd or smiled:

No one wept: tyrannic conscience seal'd their eyes and ears

and lips,

And Eternity was shadowing Time with terrible eclipse.

There it wound that ancient river: there he stood, that lonely man.

Is it yet too late? to rearmost some shrank back, some for

ward ran:

Brave men quail'd, and timid women bolder seem'd beneath

his eye:

Age grew flush'd, and youth grew paler, and the voice was

heard to cry,

"God is on His way. The Judge already stands before

the gate.

Make the lofty low before Him, rugged smooth, and crooked

straight."

As the multitudes in thousands round him throng'd, a

timorous flock,

Fell his words like hail in harvest, like the hammer on the

rock,

Breaking stony hearts to shivers, cloaking, sparing, soften

ing nought,