* * * * * Then there was silence, till the chastened One Murmured as from the dust, "Lo, I am vile! What shall I answer thee?--I lay my hand Upon my mouth. Once have I dared to speak, But would be silent now, forevermore." --Yet still, in thunder, from the whirlwind's wing, Jehovah's voice demanded,-- "Wilt thou dare To disannul my judgments? and above Unerring wisdom, and unbounded power Exalt thine own? Hast thou an arm like mine? Array thyself in majesty, and look On all the proud in heart, and bring them low,-- Yea, deck thyself with glory, cast abroad The arrows of thine anger, and abase The arrogant, and send the wicked down To his own place, sealing his face like stone Deep in the dust; for then will I confess Thy might, and that thine own right hand hath power To save thyself. Hast seen my Behemoth, Who on the grassy mountains finds his food? And 'neath the willow boughs, and reeds, disports His monstrous bulk? His bones like brazen bars, His iron sinews cased in fearful strength Resist attack! Lo! when he slakes his thirst The rivers dwindle, and he thinks to draw The depths of Jordan dry. Wilt cast thy hook And take Leviathan? Wilt bind thy yoke Upon him, as a vassal? Will he cringe Unto thy maidens? See the barbed spear The dart and the habergeon, are his scorn. Sling-stones are stubble, keenest arrows foil'd, And from the plaited armor of his scales The glittering sword recoils. Where he reclines, Who is so daring as to rouse him up, With his cold, stony heart, and breath of flame? Or to the cavern of his gaping jaws Thick set with teeth, draw near? The Hand alone That made him can subdue his baleful might." * * * * * Jehovah ceas'd,--for the Omniscient Eye That scans the inmost thought of man, discern'd Its work completed in that lowliness Of deep humility which fits the soul For heavenly intercourse, and renovates The blessed image of obedient love That Eden forfeited. Out of the depths Of true contrition sigh'd a trembling tone In utter abnegation, "I repent! In dust and ashes. I abhor myself." --Thus the returning prodigal who cries Unclothed and empty, "Father! I have sinn'd, And am not worthy to be called thy son," Finds full forgiveness, and a free embrace, While the best robe his shrinking form enfolds.