Our father's God, upon me kindly smile

That thus I do his bidding?

But what ails

Thee, dearest father?-O'er thy snowy beard
The raining tears are trickling to the ground;
And in thine eye, thy kind and loving eye,
As now it rests upon me, is a look

That fills my heart with trouble. Have I done
Aught to offend thee, father?

Abraham.

Nay, my child!

Nought hast thou ever done to cause me pain!
Thou hast been gentler than the lambs that sport
Upon the plain of Mamre; to my least
Command, e'er yielding swift obedience.
Thou couldst not grieve me, Isaac; fear it not!
I do but weep to lay my little lamb

Upon the altar, with mine own fond hand
To take its life away. But the good God
Commands, and it must be!

Isaac.

Dear father? I behold it not!

Abraham.

Where is the lamb,

O, ask

Me not, my boy - blest child of my old age! 'T will break my heart to tell thee! Th'rt pale

-

And thy lip quivers: - tell me what dim fear
Is stealing o'er thy gentle soul, my son,
As thus thou pressest closely to my side,
And graspest hard my hand? Yet turn away
Those wildly, asking eyes! —I cannot bear
Their gaze.

Isaac.

My father, speak! am I the lamb

That God demands for sacrifice?

Abraham.

Nay! nay!

Yet, -O, my God, my lips may not belie
Thou art! thou art, my child! O would that I
In thy dear stead might be accepted! God!
Jehovah! Mighty Elohim! Accept

The father's blood and spare the blameless child!

Isaac. O clasp me, father, to thy pitying breast, I cannot bear to die! Ne'er more to see Our own bright stream, or watch the little lambs Upon the plain of Mamre sporting! — ne'er To hear my mother's gentle voice, or meet Her loving smile! Ah, father! father!

Abraham. [Bowing his face upon his knees.] Child! Beloved child! Ah, see thy father dies

Of anguish and despair! —O, God, reverse

The stern decree!

Isaac. [Clasping his father's head.] Die not, dear father! Lift

Thy loved face up again. O, if indeed
The Elohim commands, and thy dear hand
Is ready for the blow, dear father, I

Submit! I will not shrink or quail beneath
The knife. I know 't will pierce me tenderly,
If that thy hand directs it!

Abraham.

Oh, my God!

And must it be!— Have pity, child, and turn
Those loving eyes away! I cannot strike,
If thus they look upon me!

"Abraham!

A Voice. [Speaking down the air.]
Spare! spare thy son! Lay not thy hand upon
The lad, nor do him aught of harm. For now
I know thou fearest God, since thou hast not
Withheld thy son, thine only son, from me!

Abraham. [Gazing up into the air.] That voice!
Where am I? Sure it was the Lord

That spake the words forbidding me to slay ;
That bade me spare my son, mine only son,
The precious jewel of my life! And, lo!
Caught in yon thicket, I behold a ram
Meet for the sacrifice! O, God! my God!
Send down thy blessing now upon my son,
For he was given to Thee!

C. M. S.

THE CLAIRVOYANT EYE.

BY MRS L. J. B. CASE.

MIDNIGHT strikes from a neighboring churchtower, but it falls unheard upon the ear of revelry. Time utters, in vain, his voice of warning, when pleasant earthly sounds are on the air. It is only in the desolate chambers of the spirit whence joyous melodies have died away into silence, that the solemn tones that speak to it of its relation to the Eternal Future, find admittance and a welcome.

In that brilliantly lighted saloon are young, undarkened faces, that have passed, as yet, beneath no cloud; eyes, hopeful and loving, that have never gathered gloom from the treachery and falsehood of the world, nor from the stern, appalling shadows of the grave; hearts, that will hereafter take upon them burdens that may crush them helplessly, or slowly bow them to that quiet bed whose slumbers will not be disturbed though earth be smitten into primeval chaos.

Yet those hearts are beating joyous accompaniment to the mirthful hours, careless of the time when dissonant strains shall breathe around them,

and they shall measure only numbers of a dirge. Well, for those hearts, if duty and religious trust be wrought out of the mournfulness of their lot, and the harmony of heaven descend upon the discords of earth!

But what heed these giddy idlers of a future? Not a rosy cheek grows pale at the thought. Not one jewelled head moves less haughtily in the dance, and not one youthful pulse beats less hopefully, as coming life ushers itself to the mental eye.

Yet there is one who sits apart, spectator rather than partaker of the enjoyment. She speaks, when addressed, careless words to the careless, and melancholy wisdom to those who can understand it, to whom life has brought sympathy with her communings. There are gleams in her eyes as if she was surrounded by phantoms, and those earnest glances tell of strange and shadowy revelations, incommunicable to the gay and glittering throng.

“Tell me, thou of the Clairvoyant Eye, what passes before thee? If thou canst read the sealed and guarded years of onward life, let it be for the good of those around thee. Let the phantasmal beings of thine unclouded vision be also to others realities and instructors.

Thus, perhaps, some heedless foot upon the brink of the precipice, may be arrested, or some heart, bewildered in a syren spell, may be redeemed from sorrow and remorse.