Set death at naught in rock-ribbed channels deep. Seek Pharaoh's race to-day and ye shall find Rust and the moth, silence and dusty sleep.

"O World-God give me Beauty!" cried the Greek. His prayer was granted. All the earth became Plastic and vocal to his sense; each peak,

Each grove, each stream, quick with Promethean flame,

Peopled the world with imaged grace and light, The lyre was his, and his the breathing might Of the immortal marble, his the play

Of diamond pointed thought and golden tongue. Go seek the sunshine race, ye find to-day

A broken column and a lute unstrung.

"O World-God, give me Power!" the Roman cried. His prayer was granted. The vast world was chained

A captive to the chariot of his pride.

The blood of myriad provinces was drained To feed that fierce, insatiable red heart.

Invulnerably bulwarked every part

With serried legions and with close-meshed code. Within, the burrowing worm had gnawed its home, A roofless ruin stands where once abode

The imperial race of everlasting Rome.

"O Godhead, give me Truth," the Hebrew cried. His prayer was granted; be 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, His wisdom wore the hoary crown of eld. Beauty he hath forsworn, and wealth and power. Seek him to-day, and find in every land,

No fire consumes him, neither floods devour; Immortal through the lamp within his hand. Emma Lazarus.

PALESTINE

I

O hallowed land of mighty deed,

Palestine, my Palestine;

That heroes oft from tyrants freed,

Palestine, my Palestine;

Where fought the Maccabaean breed,
Where great Bar Kochba's heart did bleed,
Prepare to greet your Chosen Seed,
Palestine, my Palestine!

II

They smote your heart with iron hand,
Palestine, my Palestine;

They hurled at you the blazing brand,

Palestine, my Palestine;

Where rose your fanes, they left but sand,

And waste they laid your lovely strand,

Your sons they drove a captive band,
Palestine, my Palestine!

III

Your skies gaze down in purest blue,
Palestine, my Palestine;

And bathe your peaks in brilliant hue,
Palestine, my Palestine;

Your dancing waves bring tidings true,
Your cedars tall the tale renew:
Your children come again to you,
Palestine, my Palestine!

IV

O land where David reared his throne,
Palestine, my Palestine;

Where first the seed of Truth was sown,
Palestine, my Palestine;

O land where the Glory of God has shone.
Resume the role you once have known!
Prepare to welcome back your own,

Palestine, my Palestine!

Israel Goldberg.

A CITY GATE IN PALESTINE

I love to dream with eyes half-closed
Of cities far away,

Of home-returning caravans,

Which, at the dusk of day

Move slowly down the dusty road,
As keen-eyed merchants wait,
While sunset blossoms like a rose
Behind the city's gate.

The city's gate: it really seems
That I went there one day,
Perhaps to purchase and to sell
Or watch the children play;

Or listen to the ancient tale

The elders loved to tell;

Or filled the pitchers for the maids
Who gossiped at the well.

The land we love is torn with war;
No voice is raised in song;
And yet in dreams I find the path
My heart has known so long.
The Land of Hope is still mine own,
Where safe from foeman's hate
I meet the sons of long ago

Within the city's gate.

E. C. Ehrlich.

SAND AND STARS

(After Frug)

The silver moon shines, and the diamond stars twinkle,

The night soars o'er land and o'er main; The Book of Creation before me is openI read it-and read it again.

I read and repeat the old, marvellous stories

A voice calls in answer to me:

"My people shall be as the stars of the heaven, As sand on the shore of the sea!"

Oh, heavenly Father, not one of thy sayings
Has ever proved vain or untrue;

Thy will on the earth, as thy will in the heaven
Must come, when its season is due.

And half of thy promise has long been accomplished— Thy people became as the sand,

As gloomy and trampled, as humble and wind-tossed, As scattered on sea and on land.

Yea, half of thy promise has long been accomplished— Thy people is trodden as sod;

But what of the beauteous, the lofty, the shining, The heavenly stars-Oh my God?

P. M. Raskin.

IN THE LAND OF OUR FATHERS

Blue are the skies in the land of our fathers

A blue of a beauteous sheen;

Through the clearness of air on the farthest horizon The mountains of Judah are seen.

Broad are the dales in the land of our fathers,
Sweet with the fragrance of flowers;

Fair-smelling groves where the almond-trees mur

mur,

Vistas of grape-girded bowers.

High are the hills in the land of our fathers

To reach to the vaulting sky;

Israelites, sturdily tilling and reaping,

Are chanting their carols nearby.

Bright gleams the moon in the land of our fathers,

Aglint on the evening dew,