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My people cried unto their God,

A zealous God who heard their cry; He walks the earth in majesty,

And rules supreme the far-stretched sky; He called them to possess His land,

The kindred of a noble breed, That they in large and liberal ways May serve their God, they must be freed!

The woes of thousand pains they bear,

Baked by the sun that steams the NileFor every blow a foreman dealt

They wrought some huge but bloody pile. The Egypt that you rule, they reared, An empire mighty as the sea,

And for the things their hands have made Their Father's God now sets them free!

My people must go free this day!
The Red Sea calls, yon desert cries,
And distant smoking Sinai's peaks
Reverberate their agonies.

My God hath sent me to your face
To still the anguish of their moan:
Unless you free them from their bonds
My God will smite you and your throne!"

But Pharaoh of the hardened heart,
He yielded not, as Moses spake ;
Nor feared he that the shepherd's threat
Would make the House of Egypt quake.

His face grew hard, his heart was cold,

He raised no hand nor bent his knee— How could he, bred in lust and greed,

Let slaves who served his throne go free?

Night shrouded him and Egypt's Nile.
And earth upset, the slimy deep
Spread o'er the shimmering sandy wastes
The things that death and darkness keep.
And even then did Pharaoh smile,

Till lastly Death, as hard as he,
Touched him remorselessly, and then

The slaving people were set free.

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But Pharaoh lives in every age

To covet lust and power and might,
And slaves to serve him are they all
Who know not God and shun the right.
To-day—alway—a shepherd's voice

Is lifted up to urge his plea,

Where wrong enthroned grows hard of heart

And will not let the people free!

RABBI JOSEPH LEISER

25

MOSES IN THE DESERT

Go where a foot hath never trod,
Through unfrequented forests flee;
The wilderness is full of God,

His presence dwells in every tree.

To Israel and to Egypt dead,

Moses, the fugitive, appears;

Unknown he lived, till o'er his head
Had fall'n the snow of fourscore years.

But God the wandering exile found
In His appointed time and place;
The desert sand grew holy ground,
And Horeb's rock a throne of grace.

The lonely bush a tree became,

A tree of beauty and of light, Involved with unconsuming flame,

That made the moon around it night.

Then came th'Eternal voice that spake
Salvation to the chosen seed;
Thence went th’Almighty arm that brake
Proud Pharaoh's yoke, and Israel freed.

By Moses, old and slow of speech,
These mighty miracles were shown;

Jehovah's messenger! to teach

That power belongs to God alone.

JAMES MONTGOMERY

26

THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT

'Twas morn-the rising splendor rolled
On marble towers and roofs of gold;
Hall, court, and gallery below,
Were crowded with a living flow;
Egyptian, Arab, Nubian, there,
The bearers of the bow and spear;
The hoary priest, the Chaldee sage,

The slave, the gemmed and glittering page-
Helm, turban, and tiara shone,

A dazzling ring round Pharaoh's throne.

There came a man-the human tide

Shrank backward from his stately stride:
His cheek with storm and time was tanned;
A shepherd's staff was in his hand;

A shudder of instinctive fear

Told the dark king what step was near;
On through the host the stranger came,—
It parted round his form like flame.

He stooped not at the footstool stone;
He clasped not sandal, kissed not throne;
Erect he stood amid the ring,

His only words,-" Be just, O king!"
On Pharaoh's cheek the blood flushed high,
A fire was in his sullen eye;

Yet on the chief of Israel

No arrow of his thousands fell:

All mute and moveless as the grave

Stood chilled the satrap and the slave.

"Thou'rt come," at length the monarch spoke;
Haughty and high the words outbroke:
"Is Israel weary of its lair,

The forehead peeled, the shoulder bare?
Take back the answer to your band:
Go, reap the wind; go, plough the sand;
Go, vilest of the living vile,
To build the never-ending pile,
Till, darkest of the nameless dead,
The vulture on their flesh is fed.
What better asks the howling slave
Than the base life our bounty gave?"

Shouted in pride the turbaned peers,

Up clashed to heaven the golden spears.

66

King! thou and thine are doomed! Behold!" The prophet spoke-the thunder rolled!

Along the pathway of the sun

Sailed vapory mountains, wild and dun. "Yet there is time," the prophet said: He raised his staff-the storm was stayed: "King, be the word of freedom given. What art thou, man, to war with Heaven?”

There came no word--the thunder broke!

Like a huge city's final smoke,

Thick, lurid, stifling, mixed with flame,
Through court and hall the vapors came.
Loose as the stubble in the field,

Wide flew the men of spear and shield;
Scattered like foam along the wave,

Flew the proud pageant, prince and slave;

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