A Hymn of Zion ZION, we love thee well,

Fair land of Israel,

For thee we long!

Thou art our heart's desire,
Our altar's holy fire,

The breath that stirs our lyre,
To Freedom's song!

Land which the Jordan laves,
Land of the sacred graves,
For thee we weep!

Land where the Prophets trod,
Where Truth erst swayed the rod,
Where Psalmists sang of God,
Thy faith we keep!

Thy dawn now fills our eyes,
Thy hope now tints our skies-
Our soul's athrill!

A shoot from Jesse's stem,
Shall rule Jerusalem,

Bright be his diadem,

O'er Zion's hill!

JOEL BLAU.

VII

THE MODERN PERIOD

Bar Kochba

JEEP, Israel! your tardy meed outpour
Of grateful homage on his fallen head,
That never coronal of triumph wore,
Untombed, dishonored, and unchapleted.
If Victory makes the hero, raw Success
The stamp of virtue, unremembered

Be then the desperate strife, the storm and stress
Of the last Warrior Jew. But if the man
Who dies for freedom, loving all things less,

Against world-legions, mustering his poor clan;
The weak, the wronged, the miserable, to send
Their death-cry's protest through the ages' span-
If such an one be worthy, ye shall lend

Eternal thanks to him, eternal praise, Nobler the conquered than the conqueror's end! EMMA LAZARUS.

The Jewish Exile:

After the suppression of Bar Kochba's revolt, the Jews were debarred by Hadrian from entering Jerusalem. They obtained the privilege, however, of assembling once a year, upon the Mount of Olives, on the anniversary of the burning of the Temple; and from that eminence the patriots took a distant look at the beloved city.

WHEREFORE Weep our brethren yonder,

Gathered from afar and near;

Wherefore, father, tell me, wherefore
Are these weary pilgrims here?

Ah, my child, a day of mourning
Brings together Israel's fold;

Many of these weary pilgrims

Once were warriors, strong and bold.