"Oh, Godhead, give me Truth!" the Hebrew cried. His prayer was granted. He became the slave Of the Idea, a pilgrim far and wide, Cursed, hated, spurned, and scourged with none to save. The Pharaohs knew him, and when Greece beheld, No fire consumes him, neither floods devour; EMMA LAZARUS. Hebrew Cradle Song NIGHT has on the earth descended, All around is silence deep, Sleep, my darling, I am with thee; I no lullabies shall sing thee; In our native fields aforetime, Wondrous songs we used to sing, Turning green with early spring. Where grew daffodils and myrtles, But those notes are hushed and silenced; Mourning sounds instead of singing; : All thou needs must know, my darling, But why now in vain disturb thee? The dark day of rain hath passed! To the school, my son, I'll lead thee Pearls of wisdom in our Talmud, Thou shalt taste of prayer's first sweetness Ne'er forget thou art a Hebrew! Little son, remember well, Even to the grave, the stories That thy mother used to tell! EZEKIEL LEAVITT. (Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell.) Jewish Lullaby Y harp is on the willow-tree, MY Else would I sing, O love, to thee Perchance the song that Miriam sung By centuries of woe. I ate my crust in tears today, Aye, beating at my breast, he laughed- The shadow of the centuries lies Our harp is on the willow-tree- But, hush and sleep, and thou shalt hear EUGENE FIELD. Patriotism From the Persian TO each his country dearer far Than the throne of Solomon; Thorns from home, too, dearer are Joseph, in the pride of State, Ruling over Egypt's strand Sighed, and would have changed his fate. For poverty in Canaan's Land. Translated by ROBERT NEEDHAM CUST. THE Optimism HE rose is hid by prickly thorn, To My Lyre I. Z. JOSEPHSON. WONDERFUL is my love The love that my songs ye inspire; My spirit, my flame and my fire, And the sweets of the world to be.. JOSEPH MASSEL. To Walter Lionel de Rothschild on His Bar-Mitzvah THINE is the heritage of ancient birth, Age upon age hath dawned since first thy race Was cradled in the empurpled East: the place Whence seer and king have sprung-the great of earth. And thine the heritage of higher worth; The large-souled Charity, whose pitying grace Hath left nor land nor sea without its trace, And raised a plenteous harvest 'midst the dearth, But thine a greater heritage than these; The heaven-born Faith, thy sires have taught the world; Which lifts thine eyes to God without surcease, And bid thee guard His banner, wide unfurled. That deathless Faith make thou thy steadfast star, Thy heart shall know a peace no pain can mar. LOUIS B. ABRAHAMS. Sonnet Addressed to Sir Moses Montefiore, Dec. 10, 1878. IF Patriarchal days alone were thine Though we might well adore the mighty Hand Which oft has led thee in the Promised Land To trace the glories of thine earlier line, Thou faithful servant of that Lord Divine Which tends like Shepherd true the minished band Of Israel-though such life in wisdom planned Might well our hearts to wondering faith incline, Now wonder yields to high and hallowing thought That faith alone could lead thine onward way And teach our souls with earthly cares distraught To follow through the gloom that brightening ray Which leads thee, now thine earthly work is wrought, Leaning on God, to wait the coming day. CANON JENKINS. Sir Moses Montefiore SWEET blue-eyed Charity, devout and calm, Where men sank gasping on the lone highways |