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And Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him.—Genesis 5:24.

Oh! words of holy import! sink ye deep
Within my spirit; never more to sleep!
But lead me to the path his steps have trod,—
My soul pursue him in his walk with God.
Thus let me wander, till the road I sought
(So beautiful by every hallowed thought,
By every fancied dream of holy love)
Would tempt all other feet that way to rove!

I see him first in youthful vigour stand,
When Fancy calls him to her golden land,
When dreams of loveliness so haunt his mind
That earth seems cold—her children all unkind;
‘Tis then he speaks—no other form is near;
He listens—yet no human voice I hear;
He smiles—and joy is beaming in his eye;
He “walks with God,” his commune is on high.

I see him next in manhood; and I trace
A firmer piety, maturer grace,
As upwards on the mountain’s brow he treads
With step secure; for ‘tis his God who leads;
And, trusting to his Maker’s guiding hand,
It matters not to him where’er he stand:
Not solitary he, while One so near
To his most secret wishes bends an ear.
He looks around, and words with musings blend,
“These works are Thine, my Father and my Friend!
Ah! let me gaze on every hillock green,
And feel Thy presence near me, Thou unseen:
Let me descend the valley; every blade
Of verdant grass by Thine own fingers made,
And every flow’ret sparkling in the dew
Radiant beneath Thy hand, divine they grew.”
Thus on he walks; no step so free, so calm,
As his who leans upon a heavenly arm.

Again, I see him stand amid the storm;
Harmless it beats against his unmoved form:
Erect in sudden stillness; as some rock
Braving the thunderbolt’s terrific shock;
But not with pride he stands now void of fear,
He listens to the voice of Heaven so near;
And nearer now it comes—‘tis still the same,
Tho’ thunder is its breath, tho’ lightning’s flame
Cleaves the dull air, how oft in varied tone
He utters it, the only Blessed One;
He smiles,—all nature waits upon that smile!
‘Twas only sunshine hidden for a while.

Once more I looked—the man of God was gone!
Yet still the path he trod before me shone:
’Twas a long path of rugged steep and plain,
O’ershadowed here and there by mist and rain;
But thro’ it ran one long and trackless light,
Which seemed to grow beneath my dazzling sight,
Mingling within the light he worshipped; so
He followed God; and thus did Enoch go:
His days were ended, yet death dared not come,
”He walked with God,” and God did take him home.

R. E. S.