Onward

I

WHERE are you going, soldiers,

With banners and drawn sword?

We're marching East to Palestine
To battle for the Lord!
What captain leads your bands
Along the sandy coasts?
The Mighty One of Israel,

His name is Lord of Hosts!
To Palestine, to Palestine,

The Lord will lead us throughTo blow before the heathen walls The trumpets of the Jew.

II

What flag is this you carry,
In this your Holy War?.
The same our grandsires raised aloft,
The same our fathers bore.
On many a battlefield, intact,

It caught the crimson rain,

For what was woven in God's loom,
No man can rend in twain.

To Palestine, to Palestine

The Lord will lead us through, To plant upon its mountain-heights The standard of the Jew.

III

What song is this you're singing?
The same that Israel sang
When Moses led the mighty choir,
And Miriam's timbrel rang.
"To Palestine, to Palestine!"

Both young and old have cried;

"To Palestine, to Palestine"The people's voice replied.

To Palestine, to Palestine,

The Lord will lead us through
To thunder in the usurper's ear
The anthem of the Jew.

IV

When Salem's foes are scattered
And all the path lies free,
What follows next in order?
Our God to that will see.
He'll break the tyrant's sceptre,

He'll build the people's throne-
When half the world is Freedom's,
Then all the world's our own.

To Palestine, to Palestine,

The Lord will lead us through.

On!

J. M. MANICOFF.

WHEN Israel marched from Egypt land,

And broke her yoke of slavery,

And standing by the Red Sea strand,
Drank her first draught of Liberty,

And torrid Afric's horrid hordes came on with newlinked chains, once more

Her limbs to bind;

And trembling Israel cried to Heaven when she beheld the sea before,

The foe behind;

Then burst a voice from high;

Why do the children cry—

Why do the children cry to me?

Why do they not go on?

And Israel found her promised home-
And lost it; and her Destiny

Has forced her, ever since, to roam
In search of it o'er land and sea.

And blood-soaked foot-prints mark her path, through briers, and beasts, and storms, and stress,

-Her life one dirge;

Yet some of Israel's sons, from out the black mediæval wilderness,

Did at last emerge.

And now, from a foreign strand,

We long for our native land;

And again the command in our ears, as we stand: Why do they not go on!

Yes! We are through-we favored few;

And some of us would rest content,

If only our poor brother Jew

Would not scream so when being rent.

We're tired of wandering through the world, but, brothers, we can have no rest

Here on the strand;

Behind come foes more cruel far than the seas of hardship we must breast

For our Fatherland.

-Now, brothers, which is it to be:

The foe, or the God-governed sea?

Come, make your choice with me, for the sea!

And let us on, on, on!

GEORGE BENEDICT.

To the Glory of Jerusalem

BEAUTIFUL height! O joy! the whole world's

gladness!

O great King's city, mountain blest!

My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning

From limits of the west.

The torrents heave from depths of mine heart's passion,

At memory of thine olden state:

The glory of thee which was born to exile,

Thy dwelling desolate.

And who shall grant me but to rise and reach thee,
Flying on eagle's pinions fleet,

That I may shed upon thy dust, beloved,
Tears, till thy dust grow sweet?

I seek thee, though thy King be no more in thee,
Though where the balm hath been of old-
Thy Gilead's balm-be poisonous adders lurking,
Winged scorpions manifold.

Is it not to thy stones I shall be tender?
Shall I not kiss them verily?

Shall not the earth taste on my lips be sweeter
Than honey-the earth of thee?

JUDAH HA-LEVI.

Jerusalem

ERUS'LEM! Jerus'lem! thy glories have fled, Thy Kings wander crownless, pale ghosts of the

past;

Thy beauty, thy valor, thy might, are all dead;
But Hope is still left thee-'tis all that thou hast!

Though the sword of the warrior's tarnished with rust,
And the war-steed lies bleeding along the red earth;
Though thy towers have crumbled long since into dust,
And the songs of the Priests but in sorrow have

birth;

Yet the Great God of Heaven will brighten the stain, And breathe in the war-horse, strength, power, and

might;

Thy ramparts, Oh Salem! shall tower again,

And the Priests' Holy Temple arise in thy sight.

Then, Queen of the East! let thy tears cease to flowThy God liveth ever; He is mighty to save;

The diadem yet shall encircle thy brow,

When those who now rule, shall have passed in the

grave.

For the Future hath gladness for thee in its womb, And the harp will again sound thy triumph and

praise;

Nor sorrow, nor blight, will e'er shadow with gloom,
The Sun of thy Glory, the Light of thy Days.

And nations will bow, as they did once before,
And quake in thy presence with dread and alarm;
For strong are the people, who rest them secure
In the Faith of His word, and the Might of His

arm.

P. C. L.

Zion

ON lovely dwellings fall the fervid rays,

The naked rocks lift high their heads in air, Dust-covered stones fling back the noon-day's glare And strange old ruins tell of ancient days. A motley throng creeps through the narrow ways, Pilgrims from far off lands whose faces bear The look that tells of by-gone toil and care, Of weary journeys and of long delays. What magic is there in this torrid clime?

What fascination in these hoary walls?

What charm dwells here that sovereignly calls To hearts of men throughout the reach of time, Heedless of earthly gain, yet draws the soul Through want and hardship, to what mighty goal?

This was the ancient home of Israel;

Here lived our fathers fearless and free;
Here lives a glory and a memory;

And we His chosen ones, once more shall dwell,
Majestic, jubilant, invincible,

In this, our heritage; our eyes shall see
The long-ago that is again to be;

The peace that has no ending shall dispel