HADASSA* trembled . . . and drew near
Within the fatal ring;
O who would look, and never fear
At the great Eastern king?
But straight the monarch pity showed,
And spared the doubting child;
The sceptre's point with favour glowed,
And spoke of mercy mild.
O Lord! we thank Thee for Thy grace
As in Thy courts we bow;
Mercy stands written in Thy face,
No Persian tyrant Thou!
And should our heart condemn us, Lord,
We still can venture near;
For "light and joy" Thy words afford,
Whose love casts out all fear.
Thy presence-chamber open stands,
Thou call'st us to be bold;
And glory lights those gracious hands
That wield the Rod of Gold. E. K. B.