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TO THE CITY OF REFUGE

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 17, 1875

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 45, No. 25.

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TO THE CITY OF REFUGE.

By Sel.

“Then ye shall appoint you cities, to be cities of refuge for you; that the slayer may flee thither, which killeth any person at unawares.” Num. 35:11.
With snow-white face and staring eye, With trembling limbs and hands outspread, He stands, and hears the people cry, “Flee, flee for life! The man is dead!”
“Whither, oh whither? South or north? To east or west? where shall I fly? I see the avenger starting forth, If he o’ertakes me, I must die.”
“Hebron for refuge! South! now fly! The city set apart for thee! O win it, and thou shalt not die, However near the avenger be.”
He starts away with all his speed Along the road that leads him there, Saves but the garment of his need, No other burden can he bear.
“Hebron, for life!” his only cry, Refuge from death, his only care, The people see him rushing by, With eager eyes and flying hair.
His wife’s glad kiss, his children’s glee, The joy around the festive board, Would fill his soul with ecstasy Could he the happiness afford.
But what cares he for home, or friends, Or gold, or fields of waving grain? ’Tis but the dust his footsteps spurn, To reach the refuge he would gain.
On, on he goes! o’er hill and vale, Through wood, or town, he cares not where, Unheeding whatsoe’er assail, The stony road, the burning air.
The scorner’s laugh, the vexing stare, He spurns them all, for on his track, With foaming mouth and eyes aglare, The avenger comes when he looks back.
“Hebron for refuge. To the right,” A guide-board speaks, where two roads meet, And soon the city greets his sight, Giving new strength to weary feet.
So distant still and he so tired; His early zeal so nearly spent! ’Tis well the view his spirit fired, And strength unto his footsteps lent.
For if he fails to reach the place, And falls but just this side the gate, In vain for him were all the race, The avenger’s hand will seal his fate.
But see! he nears the open gate, With tottering steps, and drooping head; The anxious people all await His rescue from the avenger dread.
He falls within! The gate is swung; He’s safe! he’s safe! though worn and faint. The avenger raves, with madness stung, And fills the air with his complaints.
Safe, safe! O Hebron, refuge dear! In thee my weary head shall rest, Farewell my pains, my anxious fear, O welcome life! how sweet, how blest! —Sel.