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64
F. C. SLATER.
IN THE MATOPPOS.
In lone Matoppos now he lies,
Can we forget?
Our leader, seer; his hills, his skies
Are near him yet!
Like to the Hebrew seer of old,
Who, within sight
Of promised Canaan, passed away
On Nebo's height—
So he: he only saw the dawn
Of promised day
Break o'er the hills of his lov'd land:
He might not stay
To see the splendour of that noon,
For which he wrought
Thro' the long, weary, waiting years
With anxious thought.
Strange to our purblind eyes the tools
Which, with due care,
The great Inventor takes to build
His Kingdom here.
