Jew and Christian, side by side,

As men they fought, and as men they died!
Like brothers stood fast at the bugle blast,
Until like brothers they sleep at last.
While over them flutters the banner fair,
And a sadness thrills in the Springtide air.

Jew and Christian, side by side,

For their common country they lived and died,
And they vigil keep, in their dreamless sleep,
O'er the brotherhood that is ours to keep.
While over us flutters the banner fair,
Though a sadness thrills in the Springtide air.

THOU lookest backward reverently. 'Tis well!
The springs of life and faith are still our shrines,
And, standing strong in living deed, the spell
Of this day's call thy listening heart divines.

The to-morrow's light is on thy brow, thy step
Leans forward where the quickening Word abides;
Thy past a pledge that yet that Mystic Roll
A fuller, holier revelation hides.

Young heritor of ancient faith, thou guide
Of present need, and seer of faith to be!
The august centuries converge on thee—
One living God behind, before, beside.

The same Eternal keeps the open door;

Stand forth with Him and sing to-day's Mismor!

E. C. L. BRowNE.

THE
'HE Summer glories fade in autumn mists,

The sombre earth is wrapped in clouds of gloom; Faint through the storm-filled air a sound is borne, A sound of dread- -a sound of awful doom.

It is the tread of armed marching hosts,
The muffled roar of death-dispensing fire,
The cry of anguish, and the piteous groan
Of brave men dying in the battle mire.

O God! that creatures fashioned in Thy shape
Should in Thy sight, their brother-creatures slay!
Oh, riddle dire! whose answer we must wait
Beyond the narrow limit of the day!

Let forth the snow-plumed bird! Speed Thou her flight

Across this world of storm, and stress, and strife, That where she spreads her magic pinions' shade, Joy may awake to sweet and happy life!

FLORENCE WEISBERG.

Twenty-one Years of Rescue Work SHAMED and degraded you call them-they! Flung in the nameless abysses, whose anguish defiles,

Where grief is forbidden to weep, and agony forced into smiles.

Shamed and degraded, you say!

O for a tongue of fire, for words like to scourging flame,

Telling that theirs is the anguish, and ours, ours only, the shame.

Ours, or we shudder and turn aside,

Holding our whiteness aloof from the stench and the stain,

While t'wards those pestilent depths there passes a pitiful train,

Hunger and evil their guide,

Innocent, ignorant, starving, thrust forth on the fatal track

Ours is the shame, for they perish, and we could have held them back!

Could-nay, we can, for behold the throng,

Sad souls ready to perish, still passing the self-same way,

Men and women of Israel, come to their aid this day, Rise, let your hands be made strong!

Souls, in God's image created, maimed, prisoned and tortured see.

God do so to us and more also, if we do not set them free!

ALICE LUCAS.

A Call to Israel

WHERE is the modern Judah Maccabee?

He of the dauntless soul in warrior guise,
To lead anew the world's hope of the free,
While silent nations Israel's claim denies;
Shall tortured hearts by hands tyrannic slain,
Throughout long years bear martyrdom in vain?

Where dwells that silent, kingly soul unknown?
Predestined champion of illustrious race,-
His portion more than splendors of a throne;
To bear aloft the Lion standard's grace;
With human voice of God's authority,
To summon all the hosts of Liberty!

It may be 'neath compulsion's daily toil,
Eating the bitter crusts of poverty;
A trembling exile, on a foreign soil,

Our New Deliverer finds that destiny

Has wrought misfortune for Life's higher aim,
And the world's freedom in God's holy name!

It may be, that by song and music lulled
Into the selfish life's forgetfulness,

The heart thornless flowers of beauty culled,
Feels the quick throb of pitying helpfulness;
The wakened conscience, for the needs of Time,
Fashions the hero unto acts sublime.

In Israel's glorious past transcendent shone
The reverent daring of the Woman-soul;
Fair Esther proved her birthright to a throne;
Great names adorn eventful centuries' roll,
With trumpet-blast of battle;-silent deed,
Of noblest service to a world in need.

May not the wise, omnipotent decree
Of the All-Merciful, Eternal One,
Find 'mid the multitude of brave and free,
Some modern Judith? in ascendance won
For Freedom's holiest cause; to light the way
Unto the Tyrants' overthrow, To-day!

How sweet the peace of blest security!

As 'gainst all warfare hearts humane declaim; That is no righteous use of liberty,

That blends with Freedom's breath a despot's name. By force and fraud, and cruel wrong assailed,

With sheathed sword, Justice keeps her pure eyes veiled! And Force and Fraud, hand linked with Bigotry, Form the Chief Guards of Russia's sovereignty.

Where is the modern Judah Maccabee?

Welcome the Conqueror in whatever guise!

Life is but living death when liberty
Beneath Oppression's stifling process dies.

Rise valiant daughters of the prophet line.
Rise, Jewish warriors with the rage divine,
That scorns subjections! better honored graves,
Than longer be the blood-stained Tyrant's slaves.
The world that should espouse your cause is still-
Arise! Arm! Strike! do Freedom's holy will!
CORA WILBURN.

Meditations at Twilight

AH, more and more at evening,

When twilight edges to its end,
And darkness, eastern caverns leaving,
Her shadow o'er creation bend;
The lowing moments foster meaning
Upon the pageant of decay,
As glory into night diffusing

Brings untoward sadness in her way.

Within that evening calm there comes
A recollection faint and dim
Of boyhood, of Sabbath hour and homes,
Of synagogue and temple hymn,
When in abated breath we heard
The echoes of our spirit-fathers,
In praise and reverential word
Of prayer. This spirit hovers.

Their hymns re-echo in my dreams,
They too felt doubt, despondency;
And saw our mistrusts also beam

In thought. The poet and sages fancy
Gave them hope beyond our mind,

More truthful to the thought of God,
To attributes that firmly bind

A God above-yet man to sod.