Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/67

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.

The Destroying Angel.

"To your homes," said the leader of Israel's host,
 "And slaughter a sacrifice;
Let the life-blood be sprinkled on each door-post,
 Nor stir till the morn arise;
And the Angel of Vengeance shall pass you by,
He shall see the red stain, and shall come not nigh
 Where the hope of your household lies."

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