Hushed at last was the sound of the lamentation and singing;
  But from the distant hill the throbbing drum of the pheasant
  Shook with its heavy pulses the depths of the listening silence,
  When from his place arose a white-haired exhorter and faltered: 
  “Brethren and sisters in Jesus! the Lord hath heard our petitions,
  And the hearts of His servants are awed and melted within them,—­
  Even the hearts of the wicked are touched by His infinite mercy. 
  All my days in this vale of tears the Lord hath been with me,
  He hath been good to me, He hath granted me trials and patience;
  But this hour hath crowned my knowledge of Him and His goodness. 
  Truly, but that it is well this day for me to be with you,
  Now might I say to the Lord,—­’I know Thee, my God, in all fulness;
  Now let Thy servant depart in peace to the rest Thou hast promised!’”

  Faltered and ceased.  And now the wild and jubilant music
  Of the singing burst from the solemn profound of the silence,
  Surged in triumph and fell, and ebbed again into silence.

  Then from the group of the preachers arose the greatest among them,—­
  He whose days were given in youth to the praise of the Saviour,—­
  He whose lips seemed touched like the prophet’s of old from the altar,
  So that his words were flame, and burned to the hearts of his hearers,
  Quickening the dead among them, reviving the cold and the doubting. 
  There he charged them pray, and rest not from prayer while a sinner
  In the sound of their voices denied the Friend of the sinner: 
  “Pray till the night shall fall,—­till the stars are faint in the
    morning,—­
  Yea, till the sun himself be faint in that glory and brightness,
  In that light which shall dawn in mercy for penitent sinners.” 
  Kneeling, he led them in prayer, and the quick and sobbing responses
  Spake how their souls were moved with the might and the grace of the
    Spirit. 
  Then while the converts recounted how God had chastened and saved
    them,—­
  Children whose golden locks yet shone with the lingering effulgence
  Of the touches of Him who blessed little children forever,—­
  Old men whose yearning eyes were dimmed with the far-streaming
    brightness
  Seen through the opening gates in the heart of the heavenly city,—­
  Stealthily through the harking woods the lengthening shadows
  Chased the wild things to their nests, and the twilight died into
    darkness.

  Now the four great pyres that were placed there to light the encampment,
  High on platforms raised above the people, were kindled. 
  Flaming aloof, as if from the pillar by night in the Desert,
  Fell their crimson light on the lifted orbs of the preachers,
  On the withered brows of the old men, and Israel’s mothers,
  On the bloom of youth, and the earnest devotion of manhood,