Shall carnal reason mount the judgment seat? Her husband's age with various pleas repeat; Nay, give assent, believe the rev'rend sire, Let God be true, but every man a liar?
The prophet left her in her unbelief, Nor was the matron plunder'd by the thief; The word took hold, the barren shall conceive, God will be faithful, though we don't believe.
The prophet knew the promise would prevail, What God himself declares can never fail; But views her bold reply with such disdain, She must invite him ere he comes again.
Her womb prolific, proves her undeceiv'd; Her time's appointed, and she then conceiv'd; Her faith shall triumph in her pregnant womb, And in her heart she finds a Saviour come.
She sets her seal, and owns Jehovah true, His mystic work to wond'rous ends construe; God's banner now to faith appears unfurl'd, And faith itself to overcome the world.
She ponder'd o'er how all was brought about, And bless'd the day she found the prophet out. Her former thoughts appear with marks divine, And like a prophecy fulfill'd in fine.
With joys divine she wants the hour to come, For sure her mind's as pregnant as her womb; The time's arriv'd, her nine months race is run, The contradicting handmaid bears a son.
Her soul is now inflam'd with love divine, Bold unbelief is banish'd from her mind; She eyes the distant Saviour long decreed, And in the type beholds the woman's seed.
The son from day to day in stature grows, So her affections to her Saviour flows; In days like these we too securely stand, And seldom dream of troubles hard at hand.
No pleasing frames like these unmix'd abide, Her thriving faith must now again be try'd; Or it shall fall, that on a certain day, The Lord that gave will surely take away.
For so it fell, that when the child was grown, He'll see them reap the crop his sire had sown;
God smites the child, the child is seiz'd with dread, And to his father cries, My head, my head.'
The father bids a lad, his servant, come, And orders him to take the darling home; Convey him safe, of fault'ring steps beware, Commit the infant to his mother's care.
The tender mother plac'd him on her knees, With tears bewails his violent disease; Requests the infant's life, but that's deny'd; She holds him up till noon, and then he dy❜d.
Is this the blessing unimplor'd bestow'd? Is this the great reward the saint avow'd? Shall all my kindness be rewarded so? And am I doom'd to weep a mother's wo?
Did I this infant of the prophet crave? Nay, I deny'd when he so freely gave; I bid the prophet not deceive with guile, I did not ask, nor yet expect a child.
And has the man of God his room forsook, And on my grief does he disdain to look? Since he the chamber has forsook and fled, I'll lay the corpse where he himself has laid.
Had I implor'd this son, I'd been content; On anxious cares the rod is often sent; But I refus'd the offer when 'twas made, Yet I'm entangl'd, and the prophet's fled.
But who can tell what God may farther do? His hand's divine, his promises are true; Why should a resurrection strangely seem? The word that bid me bear may quicken him.
It was a promise quicken'd first my womb, And by a promise shall my Saviour come; And I conceive, as far as faith can pry, That in this child I've seen my Saviour die.
Die Jesus must! or else my hope is vain, Nor can he save unless he rise again; Cheer up, my soul! expect this strange surprise, For in my son I'll see my Saviour rise.
My faith in this is far from void of doubt, The prophet knows, and I will find him out; I'll make him come where he has lodg'd before; She puts the corpse to bed, and shuts the door.
Thus big with hopes of what shall come to pass, She bids her husband send the man and ass; I'll ride to Carmel, it shall not be vain, I'll see the man of God, and come again.
The steady husband disapproves her haste, Time spent in harvest must be spent in waste; He bids his dame her hasty tour delay Till the new moon, or else the Sabbath-day.
In faith she's mounted, and in faith she'll ride, When dame's in haste she scorns to be deny'd; Her present thoughts she now delays to tell, Send me the man and ass, it shall be well.
The yielding husband urges no reply, Obeys her voice without a reason why; 'Tis vain to parley if her mind is bent, She gave command, the retinue is sent.
She brings the saddle, and equips the ass, And bids her servant ride the swiftest pace: Go forward, drive, nor dare to slack thy hand, Nor slack thy pace, except I give command.
The trusty man obeys the matron's will, And ends his stage on Carmel's sacred hill: God sent the prophet, to behold afar The weeping mother in the hasty car.
The man of God appears in some affright, And says, Gehazi, see that Shunamite; Go now, I pray, and search her welfare out, Her hasty visit fills my mind with doubt.
" Say now unto her, Is it well with thee? Thy husband also, tell me, how is he? And if she answers, as I hope she will, Then kindly ask her if the child is well.'
Her errand to the man she'll not declare, As she could never see God's image there; She answers well,' and to the prophet ran, She wants the master's aid, but not the man.
The pious prophet and the mother meet, While she arrests, and holds him by the feet; The servant comes to thrust the dame away, The prophet awes his violence to stay.
The surly servant lets the dame alone, And she's too full of grief to make it known; He says, she's vexed, this I plainly see, But God has hid her grievous case from me.
The troubled mother breathes her honest plea;
Did I, my lord, intreat a son of thee?
Yea, I deny'd when thou the promise gave,
I bid thee then beware and not deceive.'
The prophet's mind is now reliev'd from doubt, By this he finds the matron's trouble out: No wonder sorrow bows her drooping head, When God has struck the promis'd infant dead.
The man of God admires her faith divine, Nor dares to raise a doubt upon her mind; As she believ'd the child should rise again, He takes the work in hand, and not in vain.
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