Out of Egypt

THE FLAMING sunset bathed the distant hills

In gold, the air was chill, and darkness fell

Upon the silent land. Then through the night

A cry of pain rose like a wave, and fell,

Again and yet again it soared aloft,

But dying to be born anew; a wail

Of anguish wild, of hoarse and deep despair

From countless hearts, who called unto their gods

With tears and sobs, with broken prayers in vain!

For death attired in red, with scourge and flail

Had swept through Egypt at the voice of God.

And as he passed behold his steps were stained

With blood. All first-born children in the land

Were dead. The Pharaoh and the shepherd mourned

Alike, for blood red tracks were traced from door

To door; from palace garden to the home

Of those who lived in pinch of utter want.

Then God spake, and the voices of the crowds

Were stilled: “I am the Lord. I am the Lord,

My children you have treated like the dust,

My chosen people you have bound with shame.

You hold them, and you would not let them go,

So I the Lord their God have taken all

The first-born in your land …

But Israel’s children have I spared to live,

And death into their house hath entered not.

Repent, repent, and pray you be stiff-necked

And proud no more.” Then ceased the voice of God.

And mourning into hatred turned, the fumes

Of passion smote upon their souls—“Begone,

Begone accursed of our sight, arise

And flee, lest we be all dead men; take gold,

And silver, flocks and herds, and leave us peace.”

So Israel fled out in the night, and came

Not to that land again. And now once more

A silence fell, and stars of heaven gazed

Upon the stricken homes, upon the palm

Trees listening to the whisper of the wind,

Upon the silent Nile, upon the land

Of sin.