Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Moses in the Bulrushes
Moses in the Bulrushes.
Beside the river's brink, Where tall the rushes grew,She gently laid him down, And, weeping, then withdrewTo some secluded spot, Where she intent could viewWhat there might him befall, What danger might accrue.
But long she did not wait, For she at length espiedKing Pharaoh's daughter come Down by the river's sideTo bathe, as custom was With that illustrious fair,And from pollution cleanse Her form so noble, there.
When to the place she came, The ark it caught her eye,She to her servants said, "See yonder what doth lieAfloat upon the wave, Where those tall rushes are?—Some dark, mysterious thing Lies hidden surely there.
My maidens, haste and see What this strange thing can mean."Her servants heard and went, And to the ark they came, How great was their surprise When they the sight beheld:An infant-lying there,— A lovely Hebrew child.
The tender infant wept, The princess felt its smart,She gently took him up, And pressed him to her heart.Unlike her noble sire, Who wickedly decreedThat every male should die, Born of the Hebrew seed.
Like some kind mother, she Beheld the helpless babe,And thought within herself His life, how shall I save?I'll take him as mine own, And he my son shall be,And at my father's court He there shall dwell with me.
In all the arts and skill Of Egypt's sacred lore,I'll fitly train him up, Its mysteries to explore;His name I'll Moses call, To signify and show,That from the rippling wave His tender form I drew.
And while she mused thus, Young Miriam forward came,And seemed as if she would Some information gain;And with a modest look She to the princess said,"Shall I a woman seek To nurse the tender babe?"
"Yes, little maiden, go, A Hebrew woman bringBut least did she suspect That Miriam knew the thing.With eager haste she ran The joyful news to tell,That for the lovely babe All things were working well.
When to her home she came, The story she made known,The mother clasped her hands, And cried, "God's will be done!"Then with a heartfelt joy, Such as a mother feels,She to the princess hastes, And in her presence kneels.
The princess then to her In sweetest accents said,"See you this lovely child— This tender, darling babe:To your maternal care, Committed he shall be;Take him and bring him up, And nurse him well for me:
Such wages I will pay As you of me demand,And when he's fully grown I'll take him from your hand."And safely lodged once more Upon its mother's breast,The tender infant sleeps, And takes its wonted rest.
But through the vista years, What noble form is seen,What sweetness in his looks, And majesty serene?'Tis he—the helpless babe, A conqueror become;'Tis he—the man of God, Conducting Israel home.