From the land of our sojourning With a fever or fretful yearning Land of the cedar and palm, Over fragrant fields and fertile, EUGENE KOHN. The Awakening of Israel JUST the sea plead in vain that the river May return to its mother for rest And the earth beg the rain-clouds to give her Of dews she has drawn from her breast? Swing inward, Oh! gates of the future, For the soul of Israel is waking And rising from slumber at last. The black clouds of night are retreating, And calling her sons to the fray. From the dust where his proud tyrants found him ANONYMOUS. Sing Unto God a New Song ING unto God a new song, sing no more SING These melodies of melancholic strain That mourn the vanished glory that did reign O'er Zion in the golden days of yore. Wherefore forever weep, fore'er deplore Our loss? Vain are our tears, our prayer is vain Then must our song on faith's own pinions soar. Yea, sing Redemption's sun new-risen in the East, Back from the ample heaven's azure dome; EUGENE KOHN. In Exile Go, with the wand'rer's staff in hand, Without a home, without a land, Without to-morrow, or to-day, Ne'er tolerated, e'er in flight Not found by day where lodged by night. Forever woe, woe, woe, Forever go, go, go, Forever drive, drive, drive, The time we barely keep alive. Our greatness lieth in the dust; E'er troubles grave, grave, grave, And thus year after year, alas, And luckless e'en when we die. But from our ancient city thus Lo, there will cease the tyrant's rod. MORRIS Rosenfeld. (Translated by Isidore Myers.) Psalm CXXVI WHEN Zion's dire captivity The Lord had turned once more, And we, like those who dream amazed Could scarce believe it o'er, Then was our mouth with laughter filled Then said the heathen Lo! the Lord The Lord hath done great things for us, Turn, as the southern streams, again, Who sow in tears, shall reap in joy, Zionism 'HE dreamers are not dead in Israel. THE I. R. B. To-day the young dream dreams, and with the old Live visions of a deathless past. They dwell Theodore Herzl SUCH men are rare-they tow'r above mankind Like Himalayan peaks that touch the skies,- They sway not in the fury of the wind; Thou, too, hast dreamed a world compelling dream— And lead the sorrowing to a longed-for goal. FELIX N. GERSON. WHO To Theodore Herzl WHO called thee to such holy high estate?. Who taught thy lips the all-redeeming Word, Which touched us to emotions as we heard And soars aloft to Him, that guides our fate? Who kindled Ardor's undiminished flame; To make thee bold and eager to attain, Despite all that gives thee deepest pain, The highest good, not evanescent fame; Who doth sustain the skyward lifted hand, The hopeful sign and symbol of our zeal, Upraised high our shattered nerves to steel As if in warning that we dauntless stand?— It is the God within the nation's soul That spurs him on to dare to do the right. He guides his steps and steadieth his sight That he may strive unswerving towards the goal; Like all true servants of the living God, Thou gavest heed to that Celestial Voice And didst assume our burdens, of Thy Choice. GUSTAV GOTTHEIL. (Translated by George Alexander Kohut.) |