GRAPES OF ESCHOL.
AT the borders of the Promised Land,
Where Jordan spreads her shining sand,
They camped along the river side
And saw beyond the river's tide
The grapes of Eschol hanging fair;
But even then they did not dare
To enter in and boldly eat.
They sent the spies across to bring
The purple globes that climb and cling
Upon Judea's sunny hills,
And all their musky fragrance spills
As incense on the sun-steeped air;
They longed to taste, but did not dare
To cross the Jordan with their feet.
Not faith enough to keep the track,
And so the dear Lord turned them,back;
Eschol's sweet grapes they could not win,
Because they feared to enter in.
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