From the land of our sojourning
Zion, to thee, nor burn

With a fever or fretful yearning
In the patience of hope we toil
Again to possess thy soil.

Land of the cedar and palm,
Land of the olive and myrtle,
Breathing Gilead's balm

Over fragrant fields and fertile,
From the sunset shore of the sea
In God's time we shall come to thee.

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,
Swing outward, ye doors of the past,

For the soul of Israel is waking

And rising from slumber at last.

The black clouds of night are retreating,
The white peaks have signaled the day;
And freedom her long roll is beating

And calling her sons to the fray.

From the dust where his proud tyrants found him
Unhonored, and scorned and betrayed,
He shall rise with the sunlight around him
And rule in the realm he has made.

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
Would we our ancient heritage regain,

Then must our song on faith's own pinions soar.
Sing then to God a joyous song,

Yea, sing Redemption's sun new-risen in the East,
A song of triumph till the echoes ring

Back from the ample heaven's azure dome;
For yet shall we, from evil's chains released,
Zion, to thee return, our hallowed home.

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;
Our holy life-a life unjust;
Our glorious name—a danger great;
Our proud descent-a cause for hate;
Our genius-nothing but a crime;
Our culture scoffed at all the time.

E'er troubles grave, grave, grave,
Forever slave, slave, slave,
E'er seek to know, know, know,
Joys in the curses of the foe.

And thus year after year, alas,
Yea, thus age after age doth pass
Without a hope, without a goal,
While dread and terror fill our soul,
As wildly wandering we go,
From pain to pain, from woe to woe,
E'er on the way, way, way,
Forever sigh, sigh, sigh,

And luckless e'en when we die.

But from our ancient city thus
Beckons our ancient God to us,
Whose voice conveys this message blest,
"Come here, at last you'll find your rest!
Yea, here, at last upon your desolate hill
The son of Judah dreameth still."
Then hear Him call, call, call,
Go, seek the Temple's ancient wall,
Yea, trust in God, God, God,

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
Our tongue with song too, fraught;

Then said the heathen Lo! the Lord
For them great things hath wrought!

The Lord hath done great things for us,
At which we are elate.

Turn, as the southern streams, again,
O Lord! our captive state.

Who sow in tears, shall reap in joy,
And he that wand'ring grieves,
Yet bearing precious seeds, ere long,
Shall with the joyous voice of song,
Come laden with his sheaves.

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
In every land, yet hills of Zion hold
More glory than the fame of kings can bring;
More hope than ages have preserved.
The voices of a golden morning ring
With victories, extolling gifts reserved
For those who 'neath the vine and fig tree sit,
And people realms bereft of ancient charms.
The souls of prophets with their souls are knit,
And martyred heroes call again to arms
The sons of Judah. Stars of morning shine,
And dawn breaks o'er an orphaned Palestine.
JOSEPH LEISER.

Theodore Herzl

SUCH men are rare-they tow'r above mankind

Like Himalayan peaks that touch the skies,-
Missioned for a majestic enterprise,

They sway not in the fury of the wind;
And on the scroll of life their names are signed
In characters of flame. The great and wise
Know them afar, and at their bidding rise
To nobler conquests of the heart and mind.

Thou, too, hast dreamed a world compelling dream—
With glance prophetic and unfalt'ring soul
Thy Israel thou strovest to redeem,

And lead the sorrowing to a longed-for goal.
If thou wert dreaming, Herzl, sleep content-
A dream like Thy God unto Moses sent.

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.
Thy heart inspired, thy spirit overawed,
Remain our true exemplar in the strife,
Though good reward or evil be thy share
We follow thee, for Zion everywhere
To struggle for the newly dawning life.

GUSTAV GOTTHEIL.

(Translated by George Alexander Kohut.)