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DRAMATIO SUPPLEMENT

TO

One Hundred Choice Selections, No. 16.

DESIGNED ESPECIALLY FOR

SABBATH-SCHOOL ENTERTAINMENTS.

ESAU AND JACOB.-ELLEN MURRAY.

YESTERDAY.
Esau. Dowd, dogs! down, down! Lie there, red deer.

A chase
Weary and long I've had to-day. How good
And tempting smells your cooking, brother mine;
It simmers, boils, and bubbles. Give me some ?
I have been hunting since the early dawn
And cannot wait for venison.
Jacob.

Why, they say
There's naught for nothing, brother Esau, here.
Give me your birthright and then help yourself.

Esau. If I should die of hunger, where's the uso
Of this great birthright. You may claim my right,
Now fill the bowl up fully.
1st SEMI-CHORUS.

Foolish man!
Poor, foolish man! Is not thy father's tent
A few steps off? Does not thy mother wait
To welcome thee? The servants ready stand
To bring thee food ?

2ND SEMI-CHORUS. Roast calf and fatted lamb,
The savory broth, the cakes of finest flour.
For this couldst thou not rule thy appetite ?

1st S-C. What has he paid for this same mess of soup?

2ND S-C. His mother's tent, his father's herds, the right Of rule and lordship. 1st S-C.

Any more than this? 2ND S-C. He gives his birthright to this goodly land;

Copyright, 1886, by P. GARRETT & Co.

To Lebanon and Carmel, Jordan's wave,
Its royal Zion and its holy hill.

1st S-C. What else?
2ND S-C.

His father's blessing. He shall pray For it in vain with many bitter tears And fruitless pleading. Ist S-C.

Is there hope for him? 2nd S-C. This only, that in years to come, the yoke May from his neck be broken.

ЈАСов.

I have done
Well for myself to-day. By one full dish
Of pottage I have made myself so rich
I scarce can count my gains.
Isr S-C.

Poor, foolish man!
What has he gained ?
2ND S-C.

His mother's bitter shame,
His father's grief, and he must wander out,
A lonely stranger, dreading everywhere
His cheated brother's anger.
Ist S-C.

Is this all ? 2nd S-C. No; he, too, shall be cheated. Laban's greed Shall steal his wages, and his lying sons Shall fill his life with sorrow. 1st S-C.

He shall gain
2ny S-C. The bitterest repentance. He shall cry
In his old age: “Evil have been the days
Of my long pilgrimage.” Poor, foolish man!

TO-DAY.
Esau. I am so hot and tired. I have worked
Through the long day, until my lips are dry.
Brother, your drink looks tempting. Yes, it smells
Very refreshing. Will you give me some ?

JACOB. There's naught for nothing, brother Esau, here.
But if you have your pocket-book, and pay
A ten-cent for a glassful, here it is.

Esau. Only a ten-cent! that will not be much
One way or other, and I cannot wait,
I am so thirsty. Fill it up.
Ist S-C.

Poor man!
Poor, foolish man! Lies not the cool, clear well,
Like some bright jewel by thy homeward path?
Is not the white milk standing in the pan?
Hang not the apples, gold and ruby-flecked,
Crisp with sweet juice, upon the loaded tree,

To stay thy thirst, and cool thy longing lips?

2ND S-C. Stand not the Church and Bible hand in hand, Calling thee back to where through pastures green The living waters flow? 1st S-C.

Poor, foolish man! What has he paid for this same ten-cent drink? 2ND S-C. His twelve months' gains; yea, more, his acres

broad, His barn, his house, his standing among men, The future of his children. 1st S-C.

More than this? 2ND S-C. Alas! he pays his birthright in yon heaven,Its gates of pearl and rainbow, streets of gold, Its river flowing from the crystal throne.

Isr S-C. What else?
2ND S-C.

Oh, price most terrible! he gives
The blessing of his God, no more to fall
Upon his withered soul, that shrieks, aghast,
In terror at the loss.
1st S-C.

Is there no hope ?
2nd. S-C. This only, that with many a bitter pain
He may, at last, o'ercome his wish for drink.
Few, few, alas! are saved.
JACOB.

Well, I have done
Quite well to-day. If I keep on like this
I shall be rich ere long. The whisky costs
So little, and it brings in money fast.
The temperance folks would stop me. Let them try,
I prosper more and more,-my gains increase.
1st S-C. What has he gained ?
2ND S-C.

His mother's blush of shame
For her lost son, his father's gray head bowed
In hopeless grief, the curse of fellow men
Cheated by him to ruin and despair.

1st S-C. And is this all ?
2ND S-C.

No, he shall cheat himself.
His boasted riches shall, like withered leaves,
Fly in the coming whirlwind, and his gains
Shall turn to liquid fire and eat his flesh
In that great day.

1st S-C. Oh, fearful prophecy!

2ND S-C. Poor fool! poor fool! For he shall cry at last: “What doth it profit me? I've gained the world And lost my soul.”

THE BEAUTY OF PIETY.-S. C. EDGARTON.

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The Priestess stands alone, with one arm leaning on her altar.

PRIESTESS. Here is my altar, nakedand I a Priestess ! Why come they not, those gentle messengers whom I sent abroad to bring me the pure and beautiful things of earth? Has the glory of this world departed, that they linger thuis in its pursuit? Nay, not all departed, for here cometh Flora, the queen of a radiant realm. FLORA. All hail, sweet Priestess! I have wandered long,

But the dear flowers were sleeping in their graves;
Only a few, from all the beauteous throng,
Have wakened at the song of spring's wild waves.
Those few I bring thee, from their far retreat,

An offering for thine altar, pure and sweet. PRIESTESS. Bless thee, Flora! They shall lie there, as beautiful tokens of thy faithful ministries to man. Thou makest the earth radiant for his footsteps; and the rugged scenes along his pilgrimage are decked with beauty by thy gentle hand. Bless thee, Flora, for thy fragrant offering. Hast thou aught to ask in return? FLORA. Sweet Priestess, I would have thee deal

With man's unthinking, senseless beart,
And waken there a sense to feel
The humble beauty I impart;
And so my own poor works control

That they may purify his soul. PRIESTESS. Stand here, by my altar. Thou shalt not lose thy reward; but Terrestria approacheth now, bearing also a gift. What hast thou found of the beautiful, in thy dim domains, thou queen of the under-world? I'ERRESTRIA. Priestess, I have brought thee gems!

Weave them into diadems

For those brows where human thought
Its divinest charm has wrought.
They are beautiful and bright,
Robed in rays of glorious light;
Take them, Priestess, they are thine,

Let them rest upon thy shrine. PRI ESTESS. Pure, beautiful are they, Terrestria, and man loves to hoard them up in caskets, and woman to entwine them upon her brow. For thy gift what reward wilt thou have? TERRESTRIA. Priestess, temper woman's heart,

By thine own redeeming art;
Make these gems to her soft eye
Teachers of meek purity;
Keep her heart from foolish pride,
Innocent, and sanctified;
Make her see, in all things bright,
Rays of spiritual light.
Ere I seek my mountain-cave,
Priestess, this dear boon I crave.

PRIESTESS. Stand at the altar, by Flora's side, and I will remember thy request. Another messenger has entered, Oceana, the daughter of the sea. She is a merry queen. OCEAXA. The sea-from the bright blue sea I come!

There is my own wild murmuring home;
I have chased the dolphin along the main,
And followed the nautilus all in vain.
I sought to bring to thine altar here
A nereid's smile and a mermaid's tear;
But they fled away to their sparry cells,

So I filled my basket with simple shells. PRIESTESS. Thy shells are very beautiful, and they have a moan of music from the sea. Men have gazed upon their varied and exquisite forms, and children have held them to their ears, and listened to their low and dreamy songs. Name a recompense, and it shall be thine. OCEANA. Oh, grant, sweet Priestess, that children may learn,

From the moan of the shell, how their spirits will

yearn,

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