His flock our Shepherd feeds
With graciousness divine;
He satisfies our needs

With gifts of bread and wine.
Therefore with one accord
We will His name adore,
Proclaiming evermore
Holy, holy is the Lord.
Our Rock, etc.

The land desired so long,
Our fathers' heritage,
Inspires our prayer and song
To God from age to agc.
His bounteous gifts afford
Our sustenance each day,
His mercy is our stay,
Yea, faithful in the Lord.
Our Rock, etc.

O be Thy mercy moved,
Our Rock, to dwell with us,
With Zion, Thy beloved,
Our temple glorious

May we redeemed, restored,

Be led there every one
By David's holy son,

The Anointed of the Lord.
Our Rock, etc.

Thy city built once more,

Thy temple walls uprising,

There will we adore

With joyful songs of praise

Thee, merciful, adored,

We bless and sanctify

With wine-cups filled up high,

By blessing of the Lord.

Man, the Image of God EXULT, my soul, in consciousness proud,

That I in God's image was made: That 'mid nature's irrational crowd, Moral light to me was conveyed; When dust, by His pure breath refined, In flesh the "vital spark" enshrined.

Oh! how shall I deserve the station
Omnipotence assigns to me;
Whose spiritual elevation
Is next to angels in degree?
How Mercy's likeness manifest,
Reflected in each mortal breast?

Perilous pre-eminence! to hold
Perfection's model in the mind;
Yet feel how the inferior mould
In which its essence is confined,
May all its majesty efface,
And leave of stamp divine no trace.

Immortal reason! hast thou no beam
Of bright intelligence to prove
Thy semblance to that Sire supreme,
Whose breath is life, whose blessing love?
Triumph! though passions dim thy ray,
In thee God's image we survey.

Justice, by thee e'er directed,
His strongest feature typifies;

In truth (through reason best reflected)
His spirit's light I recognize;

And in beneficence e'er trace

His brightest trait; celestial grace!

How glorious this filiation

Between the Lord of worlds and me!

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

'O 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.

Faith

ALICE LUCAS.

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.

F all Thy gifts the best.

OF

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

R

UDE are the tabernacles now,

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?