O maid, unrelenting and cold as thou art, My bosom is proud as thine own.
It was in the twilight of the day when her trial, if it could be called such, had taken place, that a low knock was heard at the door of Rebecca’s prison-chamber. It disturbed not the inmate, who was then engaged in the evening prayer recommended by her religion, and which concluded with a hymn we have ventured thus to translate into English.
When Israel , of the Lord beloved, Out of the land of bondage came, Her father’s God before her moved, An awful guide, in smoke and flame. By day, along the astonish’d lands The cloudy pillar glided slow; By night, Arabia’s crimson’d sands Returned the fiery column’s glow. There rose the choral hymn of praise, And trump and timbrel answer’d keen, And Zion’s daughters pour’d their lays, With priest’s and warrior’s voice between. No portents now our foes amaze, Forsaken Israel wanders lone; Our fathers would not know Thy ways, And Thou hast left them to their own. But, present still, though now unseen; When brightly shines the prosperous day, Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen To temper the deceitful ray. And oh, when stoops on Judah’s path In shade and storm the frequent night, Be Thou , long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning, and a shining light!