Thou plottest for his blood, thy own

death-cry,

Not his, comes from the gallows, cubits high.

HELEN JACKSON (1831-1885).

THE PRAYER OF MARDOCHEUS.

(Esther [Apochrypha] xiii.)

O LORD, my Lord, That art the King of might,

Within Whose power all things their being have!

Who may withstand that liveth in Thy sight,

If Thou Thy chosen Israel wilt save? For Thou hast made the earth and heaven above,

And all things else that in the same do move.

Thou madest all things, and they are all Thine own,

And there is none that may resist Thy will:

Thou know'st all things, and this of Thee is known,

I did not erst for malice nor for ill, Presumption nor vain glory else at all,

Come nor bow down unto proud
Haman's call.

Led all over Shushan by Haman,-

And robed in the king's own state,We clapped our hands for wonder,

How strangely things came about, And thought we could hear the thunder, That echoed the people's shout. V.

And then the ten sons of Haman,

And those that rejoiced at the newsThat ranged on the side of the wicked, And perished intead of the JewsWe thought how God in his wisdom,

His breath to each creature doth give, And yet how he blots out millions, That millions of others may live.

VI.

Our reading and feasting had ended,
And father looked wisely at all,
And told us the lesson extended,

That Esther's brave life did recall:—
"The path of the righteous is ever
God's vigilant care and cause,
And honesty, virtue and justice,
Are heaven's immutable laws.
VII.

"The lowly shall rise from their thralldom,

And sit on the kingly throne,
And God, in his infinite mercy,
Will gather them for his own;
While those who sit in high places,

And mingle not justice with power, Shall merit the wrath of th' Almighty And perish from that dread hour.

VIII.

"The outward has nothing to boast of,
Nor figure, nor color of skin,
The image of God is implanted,
Engraved on the heart within;
The gift to rule self is to each one,
To rule over many, to few;

But a single brave heart may work wonders,

If only that one heart be true."
W. S. HOWARD.

ESTHER,

OR

"THE ORIGIN OF THE FEAST OF PURIM."

Who shall be king in Persia, now that he

Its mighty monarch, Xerxes, is no more?

But, all his victories and conquests past; The famous victor, vanquished by his foe,

Conquered by death, is gathered to his sires.

Who shall be king? Armed myriads make reply,

And answer, Ardshier Diras Dest, his

son;

Brave Artaxerxes shall be crowned king.

But, though they raised him to the throne, a host

Of their own countrymen refused to

own

The new-made monarch as their lawful lord,

And to the house of Artabanus yield Their loyal homage, and espouse his

cause;

All heedless of the crimes which stained his fame.

Well might the youthful king strain every nerve

To thwart their efforts and defeat their plans;

His elder brother, murdered in his sight;

Himself, well-nigh a victim to the same Assassin's hand, having escaped the

blow

As by a miracle. With gravest fears That his dead father shared his

brother's fate.

"Ho! loyal Persians, show the world how deep

"Your detestation of their cruel deeds, "And rally round my standard; then shall all

"Their guilty hopes be blasted, and my throne

"Firmly secured against my enemies." And round his throne they flocked, an armed host,

Warlike and full of loyal zeal; they fought

With such determination that his foes Were speedily o'erthrown, and victory Crowned all their efforts with complete

success.

Alas! how fleeting are our joys, when all

Our utmost hopes seem realized; some dark