FullReads

The king has risen to his feet!–what sight has fixed his gaze?
What mean the wonder in his face, the look of blank amaze?
And what the changed and falt’ring voice, as doubtfully he cries,
“Tell me, ye counsellors of mine, ye ancient men and wise,

“Did we not cast, each firmly bound, into the fiercest flame,
Three mortal men, for death designed, of Hebrew race and name?
Three?–only three?–or do I dream? What sight is this I view?”
And all his counsellors replied, “O monarch, it is true!”

“Yet now, amid the blinding flames, unbound, and calm, and free,
Walking, with firm and steady step, the fiery waves, I see
Not three, but four, and lo, the form of Him, the fourth I ween,
Is like the Son of God, so calm, so gracious is His mien!”

Then to the furnace mouth drew near the monarch with his train–
The baffled monarch, bowed and quelled, feeling how poor and vain
Were all his boasted pomp and power, how impotent and Week
The arm so void of strength that hour his mad revenge to wreak.

“Ho, Shadrach, Meshach, hasten ye! and thou, Abednego,
Servants of God Most High, come forth!” the monarch cried; and lo,
Without a touch or tinge of fire, or smell of scorching flame,
Forth, from the glowing heat intense, God’s faithful servants came!

O, servants of a heathen king! all vainly would ye trace
Or hue, or stain, or smell of fire, on any form or face!
Those comely locks of raven hair, smooth and unscorched, behold;
Nor may ye find one trace of flame on any garment’s fold!

Then cried the heathen king again–and, oh, how altered now
The tone and utterance!–how changed the haughty lip and brow!–
“Now blessed be the God who hath His angel sent to free
His servants who have trusted Him, and changed the King’s decree;

“Who gave their bodies to the flame, rather than once to swerve
From their allegiance to the God whom they delight to serve!
Therefore, let no one speak against this Glorious One and Just,
Who saves, as none but He can save, the souls that in Him trust!”

Then calmly to their wonted toil, their worldly cares again,
Unconscious of their deathless fame, went forth those dauntless men;
Thrice blessed men! with whom, that day, their gracious Lord had
walked,
And lovingly, as friend with friend, of hallowed mysteries talked.

He walked with them amid the flames! Oh, to the paths we tread,
The brighter, smoother, greener paths, with summer-flowers o’erspread,
If but our weak hearts welcome Him, the same dear Lord will come,
And walk with us through countless snares, till we arrive at home!