The rev'rend sire with her request complies;
When God inclines, what servant e'er denies ?
She ey'd her guest, his conversation heard,
And, as she thought, some rays divine appear'd.

She heard the blessing crav'd upon his food;
Observ'd his grave deport and heavenly mood;
With jealous eye his blissful state admir'd;
To know his God her teeming thoughts aspir'd.

The time's arriv'd, the prophet must depart;
Her guest she loses, and she's lost her heart;
His benediction fastens on her mind,
The man is gone, the master stays behind.

His word she ponders, and his word construes,
And for a second visit often sues;
The great Jehovah hears her mental pray'r,
And moves his saint to pay his visits there.

Her teeming mind no longer holds its own,

She to her husband makes the matter known; What she observ'd and heard she'll now declare,

That he, her other self, might have a share.

،

Behold,' says she, 'the things that I perceive,

And with compliance my advice receive;

Our transient guest, who Shunem's path has trod, Is, I perceive, an holy man of God.

I find his stated circuit lies this road, And I'm inclin'd to build him some abode ; Let us, I pray, a little chamber make, Receive this servant for his Master's sake.

• I've plann'd the building, furniture, and all, And think to fix it on that vacant wall; I'll set a table, candlestick, and bed,

That he may have whereon to lay his head.

The saint he follow'd where the matron led,
Survey'd the chamber, furniture, and bed,
Admir'd her quick dispatch and tender care,
And wonders much why she should want him there.

The prophet ponders on the mystic scene,
And wants to know what she by this can mean,
And why her lib'ral heart should freely teem
So many favours unimplor'd by him.

My Master's hand is in this woman's scheme,
For pious acts like these must flow from him;
Shall then Jehovah's saint find food and bed,
While such a lib'ral host goes unrepay'd?

Shall servants travel at their Master's charge?
And will not God reward where he enlarge?
I'm entertain'd for my great Master's sake,
And 'tis by far more bless'd to give than take.

I'll have her brought, to see what views she hath,
For I suspect this chamber's built in faith;
I'll find the bottom ere I sleep to night;
'Gehazi, go, and call this Shunamite ;

'And when she's come do thou accost her thus: What shall reward thy tender care for us?

I do approve thy kindness done to me,

And now demand what shall be done for thee.

'I wish to know from whence thy motives spring;

Wilt thou that I commend thee to the king?
Or hast thou friends that would desire a post,
To act beneath the captain of the host?'

I wish no friend of mine with blood to sport, Nor do I crave the pleasures of a court; In earthly pomp let those that choose excel, With my own people I'm content to dwell.'

She gave her answer, and she then withdrew,
And left the prophet, that he might construe
Her pious meaning, and her good intent,
That no ends sinister were ever meant.

The prophet wonders at her strange reply,
But can't as yet unfold the mystery;
He eyes the room, he turns his thoughts about,
And is resolv'd to find this riddle out.

He says; Gehazi, see this woman's care,
And tell me now what I shall do for her;
I do suspect a work of grace begun,
What's done to me, is to my Master done.'

Gehazi answer'd; 'she's a barren styl'd,
For I have heard she never bore a child;
Her other self to nature's charms is cold,
She can't expect a seed, her husband's old.'

A barren womb! her soul is barren too,
No fruit divine, unless Jehovah woo:
Sarah and Hannah both their wombs were dead,
And yet by faith they both conceiv'd and bred.

I much suspect a work of faith begun,
To strengthen which, I will predict a son;
The word may serve her feeble faith to lead
To Israel's hope the promis'd woman's seed.

The pregnant promise, God to Sarah gave, Stands good to all who in the Lord believe; Upon this word a thousand hopes have stood, Which I'll repeat, and God shall make it good.

The word and Spirit God reveals to men,
Is that by which the saints are born again;
God now shall speak his own immortal word,
And she by mystic birth shall know the Lord.

The prophet now construes the matter plain,
And bids his servant call her up again;
Her reputation she shall now redeem,
To nourish faith her barren womb shall teem.

The servant calls her to the prophet's door,
Or somewhat closer than she stood before,
And said, next season, by the rules of life,
Thou shalt appear the mother and the wife.

She answer'd, nay, my lord, thou man of God, If barrens bear, the world will think it odd ; Soothe not thine handmaid in a false disguise, Nor dare deceive, thou man of God, with lies.

Thus unbelief appears with brazen brow,
And contradicts the rev'rend prophet's vow;
The sire's amaz'd, no promise he'll renew,
But goes to bed; the Shunamite withdrew.

Shall unbelief thus triumph over faith,
And give the lie to what Jehovah saith?
Shall bold corruption shew her harden'd face,
And countervail the promises of grace?