The sun has almost reached his western gate. My child will soon return. How slow the hours move by when she is gone. I feel my heart begins again to know, a mother’s fondness, and a mother’s fears. Ah! let me check this growing love, lest it should ope new springs to wound my peace.—But cease my vain repining. What! Shall we from Heaven’s grace receive the cup of bliss, and yet our share of ill refuse? and are afflictions aught but mercies in disguise? the alternate cup; medicinal, tho’ bitter? and by love’s own hand, for salutary ends administered? But were these ills indeed;—can fond complaint arrest the wings of time? Can grief command that setting sun, to roll his flaming orb back to yon eastern coast, and bring again the hours of yesterday? or from the dark, cold grave, the buried corse restore to light and life? Blessed spirits farewell! Yet, yet a few short days of erring grief; of human fondness sighing in the breast, and sorrow is no more.—The evening hour comes on. How mild! how grand! On yonder hill I can enjoy its beauties, and meditate more fully Heaven’s beneficence. (_exit._) _Enter_ RUTH _with a basket_. RUTH. Naomi is not here! Where shall I find her? (_sits down her basket and enter two women_) FIRST WOMAN. Boaz commanded that we bring you this. SECOND WOMAN. And begs you would always glean within his fields, and ample harvests shall repay your toils. RUTH. Reward him, God of strangers, for his goodness!—Tell him Ruth thanks him for this kindness shown her, and prays Naomi’s God may bless him too. (_the two women go out_) Why is my heart so pleased with this days labor? His flattery oped an avenue to love. Oh! Mahlon! Am I growing cold to thee? To the dear day that weeps thy sacred dust, I vowed a lasting fond remembrance (_sings_) I have a silent sorrow here &c. O Boaz! Boaz! why so like my Mahlon? If ’tis a crime to love thee! O! thou sole arbiter of fate! Thou God supreme, all just, all wise, who bidst what still is best in cloud or sunshine; whose severest hand woundst but to heal, and chastens to amend! Correct my heart, if any wrong desires, unjust sensations cause this tumult here! (_enter_ NAOMI) NAOMI. Welcome my daughter! Thou hast soon returned, and amply loaded. Heaven has sped thy efforts, and moved some generous heart to assist thy labors. Say: to whose liberal hand my thanks are due? RUTH. Boaz he is called, whose goodness crowned my labors, whose humane heart pitied a stranger’s fortune. NAOMI. O God of Abraham! shower thy blessings on him, and double all this kindness on his head. I know him well. He is near of kin to us, once with my sons was linked in sacred friendship.