Oh! how shall I deserve the station,
Next to the angels in degree?
Like these, by walking in His ways;
Like these, by singing e'er His praise.

PENINA Moïse.

Grace for the Sabbath

TO Israel this day is joy ever bless'd,

Is light and is gladness, a Sabbath of rest. Thou Sabbath of rest,

To a people distress'd,
To sorrowful souls,

A strong soul hast given.
From souls tempest-driven
Thou takest their sighing,
Thou takest their sighing,
Thou Sabbath of rest.
This Sabbath of rest,
O God, thou hast bless'd
And hallowed above
All the days of creation,
The care-laden nation
To peace and hope wakens,
To peace and hope wakens,
This Sabbath of rest.

To slaves giveth rest
The Sabbath behest,

We are free while we keep

Its statutes appointed.

A gift well anointed,.

We bring thee, O loved One,

We bring thee, O loved One,
The Sabbath of rest.

O gladden our rest,
And our sanctuary bless'd
Restore thou, O Lord,
And grant Thy salvation
To Israel Thy nation,

Extolling and praising
Extolling and praising
The Sabbath of rest.

To Israel this day is joy ever bless'd

Is light and is gladness, a Sabbath of rest.
ALICE LUCAS.

Faith

And the Lord, He it is that doth go before thee; He will be with thee, He will not fail thee, neither forsake thee; fear not, neither be dismayed.-Deuteronomy, xxxi, 8.

My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest.-Exodus, xxxiii, 14.

O

F all Thy gifts the best.

On us Thy needy people, sore distress'd, Sore travel worn, and stained with sin and woe, Of all Thy gifts the best.

Then shall we find, amid life's toilsome quest, The peace of God, from which all blessings flow. Then shall no evil fears our souls molest.

Faith, faith in Thee, faith that, where'er we go, Thy presence goes with us, and gives us rest That is in heaven above, on earth below,

Of all Thy gifts the best!

ALICE LUCAS.

Rude Are the Tabernacles Now

OUDE are the tabernacles now,

RUDE

Of Israel's scattered band;

Still to the East the faithful bow,

And bless their fatherland.

Oh! save us, we beseech Thee, Lord!

Through every chance and change adored.

Oh, when we think of Palestine,
Whose consecrated dust

Once bore the hallowed ark and shrine
Of Judah's only trust;

We mourn to mark the stranger there,
Who only mocks the Hebrew's prayer.

Wake ye, who in the deadly sleep,
Of self-delusion lie!

Arise! or ye may live to weep

The time now passing by.
Save us, O Everlasting Lord!

Thy aid against remorse afford!

Let us re-open mercy's law,

And in our bosoms lock

Precepts, that humble hearts shall draw

Towards salvation's rock;

Praises to Heaven's Supreme Lord,
Who did this sovereign gift accord!

ANONYMOUS.

From the Hymn Book of Congregation Beth Elohim, Charleston, S. C., 5616.

God Is Nigh to Contrite Hearts

LORD of the world, we seek Thy face,

With contrite hearts implore Thy grace,

Not on our merits we depend,

To us Thy favor Thou wilt send;

But trusting in Thy mercy great,

That Thou wilt hear us supplicate.

For what are we, our life or deed?
Some broken staff; some bruised reed,
What are the virtues that we boast?

Of small account and vain at most.

What is our strength and what our power
That fails us in each tempting hour?

What can we urge our cause to plead,
Our fathers' God, to intercede?
For what to Thee are men of power
Who fade at last like grass or flower?
What are the wise, the most august?
Thou art to them as star to dust.

The greatest of our works are vain,
For life is fraught with sin and pain.
And how alike are beast and man,

Whose longest years are but a span,
Save in that pure, immortal soul

Which yearns for its celestial goal.

There at Thy throne in future time,—
Though most momentous and sublime,—
The soul shall render its report

At Mercy's just and last high court;
And there the favor of the Lord

Shall be its true and blest reward.

DAVID LEVY.

A Prayer

Imitation of the Persian

LORD! who art merciful as well as just,

Incline Thine ear to me, a child of dust, Not what I would, O Lord! I offer Thee, Alas! but what I can,

Father Almighty, who hast made me man

And bade me look to heaven, for Thou art there, Accept my sacrifice and humble prayer.

Four things which are not in Thy treasury,

I lay before Thee, Lord! with this petition;-
My nothingness, my wants,

My sins and my contrition.

ALICE LUCAS.

L

A Prayer

EAVE not a veil before my eyes,
Tear from my mind the shield of lies,
And from my soul the web of sophistries;
Yea, though I stricken, shirk and flee,
God, give me eyes to see.

Send me no song so honey-sweet

That I forget the harsher beat

Of life, the pulsing discords of the street,
Smite me with sorrow as a spear-
But give me ears to hear.

Grant me the will to pay for light,

For vision overtopping sight,

And dreams that are not of the passing night;

Yield, at what price Thou shalt demand,

A heart to understand.

V. H. FRIEDLANDER.

Sacred Lyric

WHEN Sorrow, blinded with her tears,
Upon my life in darkness stole

And quenched my hopes and roused my fears,
And smote and pierced my weary soul,

O, then, I turned my heart to Thee,

O Lord of Hosts, to comfort me.

When, like rough winds in stormy skies,

Fears lashed my heart and seared my brain,

Until before my aching eyes

Life's joys were pitilessly slain,

Alone, I turned, O God, to Thee,

To solace and to comfort me.