Poems (Carmichael)/Passage of the Red Sea
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The Prophet stood beside the sea;
Looked calmly to the sky:
"Our God, in need we call to Thee,
Make Israel's pathway dry!"
PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA.
The Prophet stood beside the sea;
Looked calmly to the sky:
"Our God, in need we call to Thee,
Make Israel's pathway dry!"
He smote the waters with his hand;
The waves reeled back at his command,
The foam-wreaths curled from the wet sand,
Flung back on either side;
The surges piled a mountain height,
Two icy glaciers, still and white,
Showed Israel's pathway dried.
The pillow of the wave, left bare,
Disclosed what years had garnered there,
To make the deep sea-grottoes fair;
Bright shells and shining sand
Lay glittering in the summer ray,
Whose braided glory wreathed the day,
And lit the pulseless tide that lay
Piled backward from the strand.
That startled people lifted one
Quick, wondering glance toward the sun,
Then looked upon the sea;
They only felt that God had spoken—
The tide of vassalage was broken,
And Israel was free!
The waves reeled back at his command,
The foam-wreaths curled from the wet sand,
Flung back on either side;
The surges piled a mountain height,
Two icy glaciers, still and white,
Showed Israel's pathway dried.
The pillow of the wave, left bare,
Disclosed what years had garnered there,
To make the deep sea-grottoes fair;
Bright shells and shining sand
Lay glittering in the summer ray,
Whose braided glory wreathed the day,
And lit the pulseless tide that lay
Piled backward from the strand.
That startled people lifted one
Quick, wondering glance toward the sun,
Then looked upon the sea;
They only felt that God had spoken—
The tide of vassalage was broken,
And Israel was free!
The Prophet whispers,"Come!"—they go—
Men with time-whitened hair,
Matrons, bright youths, and timid girls,
And little children fair—
They hasten through that parted tide,
Haste to the farther shore,
As though they knew the chilled depth sighed,
Impatiently, to roar.
Men with time-whitened hair,
Matrons, bright youths, and timid girls,
And little children fair—
They hasten through that parted tide,
Haste to the farther shore,
As though they knew the chilled depth sighed,
Impatiently, to roar.
And Pharaoh, too, has dared to come
Through those plowed waters, chained and dumb—
That ocean thoroughfare;
What though the clouds above his head
Breathed thunder-mutterings low;
What though the lightning, fiery red,
Flashed forth at times, as though it said,
"Man, darest thou to go?"
What though he felt the firm earth shake,
And saw the hills with terror quake—
He dares to follow there!
The steed leaps shuddering on the path,
Urged by his rider's spur of wrath;
Proud plumes are tossed where frozen spray
Hangs white and feathery o'er their way;
Those rippl'd waters lean!
But Pharoah's hand is on his sword,
His haughty lip its breath has poured,
"There 's room to pass between!"
Haste, Israel, haste!—they reach the strand,
The Prophet turns and waves his hand—
A quick-drawn, shuddering breath—
A deafening sound, as though the sky
Had flung its thunders from on high
In one wild shriek of death!
And then the sea lay calm and still,
As though its heart recalled no thrill
Of the wild tumult passed;
And the low murmurs of the wave
Were sweet as though it held no grave
Within its bosom fast.
There is a solemn hush of prayer
Where Israel bows the knee;
The glance of God beholds them there,
The ransomed and the free;
Then from a people's heart upsprings
The hymn of praise that Miriam sings:
Through those plowed waters, chained and dumb—
That ocean thoroughfare;
What though the clouds above his head
Breathed thunder-mutterings low;
What though the lightning, fiery red,
Flashed forth at times, as though it said,
"Man, darest thou to go?"
What though he felt the firm earth shake,
And saw the hills with terror quake—
He dares to follow there!
The steed leaps shuddering on the path,
Urged by his rider's spur of wrath;
Proud plumes are tossed where frozen spray
Hangs white and feathery o'er their way;
Those rippl'd waters lean!
But Pharoah's hand is on his sword,
His haughty lip its breath has poured,
"There 's room to pass between!"
Haste, Israel, haste!—they reach the strand,
The Prophet turns and waves his hand—
A quick-drawn, shuddering breath—
A deafening sound, as though the sky
Had flung its thunders from on high
In one wild shriek of death!
And then the sea lay calm and still,
As though its heart recalled no thrill
Of the wild tumult passed;
And the low murmurs of the wave
Were sweet as though it held no grave
Within its bosom fast.
There is a solemn hush of prayer
Where Israel bows the knee;
The glance of God beholds them there,
The ransomed and the free;
Then from a people's heart upsprings
The hymn of praise that Miriam sings:
"Tyrant and slave,
Under the wave
Rest on the same cold pillow;
The Lord looked down,
His smile and frown
Parted and closed the billow;
He pushed the wave from His people's path,
And dashed it back on their foe in wrath.
Hail! mighty One, and just!
Hail, Israel's trust!
Our God!
Under the wave
Rest on the same cold pillow;
The Lord looked down,
His smile and frown
Parted and closed the billow;
He pushed the wave from His people's path,
And dashed it back on their foe in wrath.
Hail! mighty One, and just!
Hail, Israel's trust!
Our God!
"The skeptic proud
Hath found a shroud,
Wove of the foaming surges;
His people sleep
In the wild deep,
Lulled by its tempest-dirges;
And Israel's sandal hath brought no stain
From the trodden depth of the parted main.
Hail! mighty One, and just!
Hail, Israel's trust!
Our God!"
Hath found a shroud,
Wove of the foaming surges;
His people sleep
In the wild deep,
Lulled by its tempest-dirges;
And Israel's sandal hath brought no stain
From the trodden depth of the parted main.
Hail! mighty One, and just!
Hail, Israel's trust!
Our God!"