And must I in thy pious offices

Partake no longer?

Ab. (Just is the reproof.

She should not be defrauded of her part

In this great sacrifice. She must know all.)
Sar. (What hath he to unfold?)

Ab. Beloved wife,

Tell me,-in present memory dost thou bear

The unnumbered mercies God hath showered upon us? Sar. Ah! how can I forget them?

Ab. Art thou grateful?

Sar. He knows my heart.

Ab. But should he ask from thee

To give some difficult proof of gratitude,
Most trying to the heart?

Sar.

Content I were

To meet all dangers, to lay down my life.

Ab. And if he should demand thy son?

Sar. Alas! though it might cost the pangs of death

Unto the hand which gave, I would restore

I must offer up the lad a sacrifice

TO HIM. Such his behest; and absolute
Was the commandment.

Sar. Abraham! sayest thou?

Thy words amaze me.

Can it be His will

Our son should die, so dear to Him,-His own
Peculiar gift-who was to be the sire

Of many and mighty nations? How? and why?
Ab. It hath not pleased the Almighty to reveal
His purposes. A mandate from His lips

Issued, 'tis ours in silence to obey,

Not reason of its cause.

Sar. And Isaac then

Full soon

Ab. Must on the altar yield his life.
Sar. The Father too himself-

Ab. The Father too

With his own hand must offer him. Oh wife!
If in the merit of this sacrifice

Thou wouldst partake, let thy free will attend
In this great action. But no farther now
A yearning mother's presence I invite,

Nor can permit. Farewell! From Isaac hide
The secret-'tis from me that he must learn-
Alas! thou weepest. Be firm! if thou art willing,
And in thy will art strongly resolute,

GOD ever merciful will with his grace

Help thee, and afterward for righteousness

It shall be accounted to thee. Ponder this,
That better than ourselves can know, He knows
Whate'er is good for us, whate'er is ill.
Wealth, honour, length of days, and progeny,
Are all His gifts; nor, rendering unto HIM
That which Himself bestowed, is man bereaved.

Let peace o'er thy sad bosom move,
And teach thy spirit to obey;
Dearer to God the task shall prove,

Than any Victim thou couldst slay.
Another's blood we only pay,

For tribute when the Victim dies;
We render up, when we Obey,
The Will, a nobler sacrifice.

SARAH, alone.

Yet then, a little while

Miserable, afflicted, sorrow-stricken mother,

Mother no longer shall I be?

That bosom,

That seat of truth--upon the altar-stone

Transpierced, must all its innocent blood be shed?
Already in my soul I feel the edge

Of that dividing knife. Eternal Father,
Accept with favour all my anguish! Here
In this sad heart the sacrifice begins.
Nor less the sacrifice of grief, perchance,
Than of the blood thou biddest to be shed.

SARAH. ISAAC. GAMARI.

Is. Mother.

Sar. (That name! that image!)

Is. I am summoned

Servants.

By Abraham. Is he not with thee? Swift

I must speed to find him.

Sar. Hearken-(Strengthen me,

O God!)

Is. Thou dost not know that they prepare

A sacrifice, whereat I must attend.

Sar. I know my son; I know. Yet hold! (I feel The pangs of death.) Do not forsake me thus! Is. My mother, why art thou disquieted, And wherefore dost thou weep?

Sar. Alas! I am left

Childless.

Is. But I will soon return to thee. Surely for the first time I do not quit Thy much-loved presence.

Sar. But this time-(Oh God!

What agony hath ever equalled mine !)

Is. Gamari, thou whom I have ever loved,
Who on my bosom hast so often leaned,
Do thou watch over her when I am gone.
Mother, till I return, behold thy son!

Thou weepest still. What shall-what must I do?

Thou knowest my father's will.

Sar. Yes, go my son;

His will be done. My will it shall be too,
Though in a thousand parts my heart be rent.
Go-list-one last embrace, and then farewell!

Isaac.

Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be

afraid,

Though absent, I am with you still, to cheer you and

to aid;

I will not leave you comfortless, to sorrow here in

I

vain,

go unto my father now, and I will come again.

As I am in the Father, and in me the Father is,

Believe the words I speak to you; not mine they are,

but His.

Believe, though for a little while, my face ye may not

see,

My promise, that where'er I am, there you shall also be.

CHORUS OF SHEPHERDS, ETC.

Oh! daughter of humility!

Friend of each virtue that adorns the heart,
Obedience! who like thee

Can to the faithful soul rich grace impart !
A wild and savage plant, the human will
In its gross soil springs up, and puts forth still
Rank shoots, till each excrescence thou dost prune,
And graft the scions of the Maker's pleasure:
Then the old trunk acquires fresh vigour soon,
GOD nourishes it in abundant measure;
And free and fair its branches round are thrown,
When thus His will becomes our own.