Hagar And Ishmael.

'Twas morning, and the pleasant light
Shone on the hills, the trees, the flowers,
And made a far-off country bright,
A lovely land, but not like ours.

A mother led her little child
Forth from his father's door away;
And with the flowers he played, and smiled
As beautiful and bright as they.

But when, at noon, the warm sun beat
Upon the sweet boy's forehead fair,
Tired and thirsty from the heat,
He asked in vain for water there.

The bottle, filled with water clear
At early day, was empty now;
The mother laid her child so dear
Beneath an old tree's spreading bough.

She turned away, and heard the sound
Of water, gushing like the rain;
She raised her boy from off the ground,
He drank, and played and smiled again.

They travelled on for many a day,
The mother and her little child;
And found a home, far, far away,
At last, among the deserts wild.

H. P. Nichols

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H. P. Nichols

Spring.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

The Ballad.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

Autumn.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

The First Hymn.

H. P. Nichols, Simple Poetry

English

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The Desert Spring

"Oh, no, my lord, she cannot stay;
Cast out this bond maid with her mocking child,
For they cannot be heirs with thine and mine."
Abraham was sad, for he had prayed, "O God,
That Ishmael may dwell within thy sight!"
And now the message came to him, "Fear not!
In all that Sarah says list to her voice.
In Isaac shall thy seed be called. Also
I'll make of Hagar's son a nation great,
Because he sprang from thee."

Then Abraham rose
At early dawn, and lading Egypt's child
With water and with bread, sent her grief-worn
With Ishmael to wander lone within
Beersheba's wilderness. While yet the air
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The Mother's Return

A month, sweet Little-ones, is past
Since your dear Mother went away,,
And she tomorrow will return;
Tomorrow is the happy day.

O blessed tidings! thought of joy!
The eldest heard with steady glee;
Silent he stood; then laughed amain,,
And shouted, " Mother, come to me!"

Louder and louder did he shout,
With witless hope to bring her near;
"Nay, patience! patience, little boy!
Your tender mother cannot hear."

I told of hills, and far-off town,
And long, long vale to travel through;,
He listens, puzzled, sore perplexed,
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No strife disturbs his sister's breast;
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Her joy is like an instinct, ...

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The Child-Mother.

Heavily lay the warm sunlight
Upon the green blades shining bright,
    An outspread grassy sea:
She through the burnished yellow flowers
Went walking in the golden hours
    That slept upon the lea.

The bee went past her with a hum;
The merry gnats did go and come
    In complicated dance;
Like a blue angel, to and fro,
The splendid dragon-fly did go,
    Shot like a seeking glance.

She never followed them, but still
Went forward with a quiet will,
    That got, but did not miss;
With gentle step she passed along,
And once a low, half-murmured song
    Uttered her share of bliss.

It was a little maiden-child;
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The Ark And The Dove.

A rain once fell upon the earth
    For many a day and night,
And hid the flowers, the grass, the trees,
    The birds and beasts, from sight.

The deep waves covered all the land,
    And mountain-tops so high;
And nothing could be seen around,
    But water, and the sky.

But yet there was one moving thing,--
    A still and lonely ark,--
That, many a weary day and night,
    Sailed o'er that ocean dark.

At last, a little dove was forth
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    When evening came, she bent.

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The Sheep In Heaven.

"Come to the window, mother!
    Look out, and you will see
How fast these little clouds sail on,
    Above our old elm tree!

"And tell me, dearest mother,
    Are these the sheep of heaven,
That in that land are feeding,
    From morning until even?

"How soft and white and shining!
    Oh! say, dear mother, there
Is everything so gentle,
    So lovely and so fair?"

"We cannot see them, darling,
    The sheep of heaven, here;
And far more beautiful than this
    Does that bright land appear.

"Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,
    Nor tongue of man can tell
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H. P. Nichols

Samuel.

In Bible times so long ago,
    And in a far-off city, too,
A mother watched her only child
    As he in strength and beauty grew.

And when his little tottering feet
    Had scarcely learned to go alone,--
Before his baby voice could speak
    Her name, with a sweet, joyous tone,--

She took her boy and travelled on,
    Away from home, for many a mile,
That with a good and holy man
    Her darling son might live a while;

That he might learn about the God
    Who made the earth and sea and sky;
And then she left him there and turned
    Back to her home, with many a sigh.

She could not place him on her knee
    And tell him he was very dear;
And so she made a little coat
    And brought it to him every year.

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H. P. Nichols