Heaven's favorite down a darksome pit they cast,
His rich-hued robe and lofty dreams deriding;
Then, from his tears their ruthless faces hiding,
Sell him to merchants, who with spicery passed.
The changeful years o'er that fair slave fled fast:
Behold him now in glorious chariot riding,
Arrayed in shining vesture, and presiding
O'er Egypt's councils—owned by Heaven at last.
In pit or palace, God's own hand was weaving
The 'many-colored' texture of his days,
The brightest tints till last in wisdom leaving.
So when in dismal paths our feet are sinking,
Let us be looking soon for lightsome rays,
For our wise Father 'thoughts of peace' is thinking.—Richard Wilton
(Gen. 37. 3, 31, 32; 45. 13)