Part 2 — THE PILGRIM’S FAST.[1]
Reading edition
THE PILGRIM’S FAST.[1]
———
BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD.
———
’Twas early morn, the low night-wind
Had fled the sun’s fierce ray,
And sluggishly the leaden waves
Rolled over Plymouth bay.
No mist was on the mountain-top,
No dew-drop in the vale,
The thirsting summer-flowers had died,
Unknelled by autumn’s wale.
The giant woods with yellow leaves
The blighted turf had paved,
And o’er the brown and arid fields
No golden harvest waved.
And calm and blue the cloudless sky
Arched over earth and sea,
As in their humble house of prayer
The Pilgrims bowed the knee.
The gray-haired ministers of God
In supplication bent,
And artless words from childhood’s lips
Sought the Omnipotent.
And many a brave and manly heart,
And woman’s gentle eye,
Inured by discipline to wo,
Were raised in suppliance high.
No wild bird’s joyous song was heard,
No sound from shore or height,
With mute but mighty eloquence
Had Nature joined that rite:
The drooping corn and withering grass
Upon the hot earth lay:
The lofty forest-trees had stooped
Their aged heads to pray.
The sultry noontide came and went
With steady, fervid glare;
“Oh! God, our God, be merciful,”
Was still the Pilgrims’ prayer.
They prayed, as erst Elijah prayed
Before the sons of Baal,
When on the waiting sacrifice
He called the fiery hail.
They prayed, as prayed the prophet seer
On Carmel’s summit high,
When the little cloud rose from the sea
And blackened all the sky.
And when around the spireless church
Night’s length’ning shadows fell,
The customary song went up
With clear and rapturous swell:
And as each heart was thrilling to
That simple chant sublime,
The rude, brown rafters of the roof
Woke to a joyous chime.
The rain! the rain! the blessed rain!
It came like Hemnon’s dew,
And watered every field and wood,
And kissed the surges blue.
Oh! when that Pilgrim band came forth
And pressed the humid sod,
Shone not each face as Moses’ shone
When “face to face” with God?