Abides the tempest. He rose up, and laid
The wood upon the altar. All was done.
He stood a moment, and a vivid flush
Passed o’er his countenance; and then he nerved
His spirit with a bitter strength, and spoke:
‘Isaac! my only son!’ The boy looked up,
And Abraham turned his face away, and wept.
‘Where is the lamb, my father?’ Oh! the tones,
The sweet, the thrilling music of a child!
How it doth agonize at such an hour!