Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/86

Over the Hebrews, as some words to say,
Then to the mountain top in silence took his way.
The fields of Moab filled a circle vast,
On which the sacred mount its shadow cast,
Nearer, the host of Israel in the vale
Stirred like the blades of corn beneath the gale.
Ere yet on golden sands were dried the drops,
Or the pearls vanished from the maples' tops,
Since dawn, the prophet centenarian, feared
As more than man, and more than man revered,
Had left the camp, to seek the living Lord.
And hear,—oh, wondrous privilege!—His word.
Men traced his march—on, onwards as he went—
By flames that darted from his eyes intent;
And when the mountain's summit he attained,
And his brow pierced the cloud, whence silver-maned
The lightnings ran,—at once the incense smoke
From the stone altars in the valley broke.
Six hundred thousand Hebrews then in dust
Bent down. The perfumed cloud with every gust
Wavered around them, while the sun's last ray
Melted insensibly to sombre grey.
With one voice chanted in the twilight dim
Arose from many hearts the thrilling hymn;
And Levi's sons erect among the crowd,
Stood like a cypress grove 'mid foreheads bowed,
In their skilled hands, clear, loud, the harp-strings rung,
While to the King of kings the people sung.

And in God's presence, Moses took his place
Veiled in the cloud,—and saw Him face to face.

He said,—'O Lord! When shall my journey end?
Where wilt Thou further yet Thy servant send?