"Grieve not for me, dear friend. Some of the happiest moments which I have ever spent, have been in those still night hours. I have sometimes felt as if admitted to a private interview with the King. He giveth 'songs in the night.' I have thrown that idea into the form of rhyme. Would you care to hear the lines? They are of no value but as the transcript of the experience of a sick man."
On my expressing a wish to hear the little poem, Percival repeated it with a good deal of feeling; warming into joyousness as he recited the concluding verse.
Song in the Night.
O thou, on thy sick-bed kept watchful and waking
By pain, all the weary night through!
It seems as if God were His servant forsaking,
His servant—so trustful and true.
Oh no! For He giveth me songs in the darkness
That never were heard in the day:
"Thine eyes shall behold the King in His beauty,
The land that is far, far away."
Poor sufferer! The noises of earth must oppress thee,
That rise through the sullen night air;
The sound of the world's mirth must surely distress thee,
That mirth which thou never may'st share.
Oh no! For an angel is sitting beside me,
And warbling so low—yet so clear,
"Thine eyes shall behold the King in His beauty:"
And this is the song which I hear.
The Angel's Song.
"I come down to cheer thee, O happy immortal!
From sin's condemnation set free;
Whilst yet thou art ling'ring beside the high portal,
Whose door soon will open for thee.
"I bring thee a promise, the sweetest—the surest—
'Tis sent by the God who is Love,
'Thine eyes shall behold the King in His beauty,'
When thou art with angels above.
"I saw Him when in His own world, as a stranger,
Appeared the Omnipotent Lord;
I hovered in ecstasy over His manger
With worshipping shepherds adored:
I the first faint infant cry from the Monarch
Whose voice bade the universe be;
Mine eyes then beheld the King in His weakness,
I saw Him, and marvelled to see.
"I saw Him in manhood, despised and neglected,
A mourner, 'acquainted with grief,'
I longed—how I longed!—that when mortals rejected
The angels might bring Him relief!
I heard the fierce blasphemies scornfully uttered
By Scribe and by proud Pharisee;
Mine eyes then beheld the King in His trials,
I saw—much perplexed to see.
"I saw—but the tongue of a seraph must falter
Such myst'ry of love to declare!—
I saw upon Calvary raised the high Altar,
A Cross—and the Victim was there!
There was silence in Heaven—strange wonder in Heaven—
All gazing on that awful tree;
Mine eyes then beheld the King in His anguish,
I saw Him—and trembled to see!
"And thou too shalt see Him—such bliss is before thee—
But not in His weakness and pain;
When girded with power, and mantled in glory
The Victim returneth—to reign:
Shalt see Him, no stranger, but One whom thou lovest,
Thy Saviour, Redeemer, and Friend;
'Thine eyes shall behold the King in His beauty,'
Through ages that never shall end!"
[CHAPTER II.]
The Passage through the Red Sea.
A PAUSE followed the recital: Percival's deep blue eyes seemed to be full of the light of another world.
After awhile I observed, "Poetry soothes your wakeful hours; but you have not at night the resource of painting."
"It is at night that I form my designs," he replied, "and draw in imagination scenes that look meagre enough when transferred to canvas. My execution falls sadly short of what I see in my waking dreams."
"I suppose that you choose subjects from Scripture," said I.