Save me O Lord, my God I call on Thee! Make me to know the path of life aright, From sore and wasting sickness snatch Thou me, Lead me from day to night.

We are like clay within Thy hand, O Lord,
Forgive us all our sins both grave and light,
And day shall unto day pour forth the word,
And night declare to night.

May He who sets the holy and profane

Apart blot out our sins before His sight, And make our numbers as the sand again, And as the stars of night.

ALICE LUCAS.

The Twin Stars

UP above me star and star

Side by side like twins they are:
Like the eyes of God they seem,
As in Heaven's height they gleam.

Like on Sabbath light and light,
By my mother twinkle bright.
Are there eyes that watch on high?
Are there Sabbaths in the sky?

If Almighty's eyes they be,
Do they fondly look at me?

But if lights for Sabbath-day

Who'll the Blessing o'er them say?

JOEL BLAU.

(Translated by the author from his Hebrew original.)

The Twin Stars

TWO stars are shining in the skies,
Like twins they are united;
They look like God's own beaming eyes
In distant darkness lighted.

Like tapers on the Sabbath eve
That mother kindles for us-
Are there then Sabbaths up on high
And real eyes gleaming o'er us?

If God Almighty's eyes they are,
Their soft glance is caressing;
But if they're only Sabbath lamps,
Who will pronounce the blessing?

JOEL BLAU.

(Translated by George Alexander Kohut.)

The Sabbath Day-Kiddush and Habdalah
THOU
HOU sweet Sabbath of rest! Priceless gift from
above!

Sacred symbol of faith! Fruitful token of Love!
Thrice welcome to him who hath cast off the coil

Of wearisome, worrying, work-a-day toil;

Then in spirit ecstatic that thrills the heart's chord
He exclaims: "Enter hither thou blest of the Lord."
For prepared is my home as a fit dwelling-place
For Heavenly Messengers, Angels of Grace,
Who bear on their wings a new spirit benign
That suffuses man's soul with afflatus divine;
Thus bestowing upon him, for one day in seven,
While a creature incarnate, a foretaste of Heaven.
ANONYMOUS.

The Outgoing of Sabbath

HE shadows have taken the place of the sun,

THE

The Sabbath is over, the glory is gone;
With the gold of the sunset the new soul has flown,
And God, He has shattered his heavenly throne
And closed the effulgent gold gates of the sky,
And the peace and the dream and the rapture all die;
And childhood, the cherub, behold; it takes wing-
A usurper has stolen the crown of the king!
The shew-bread is eaten, no dainties are left,
Of silver and china the table's bereft;
The cover of damask is folded away,

And the household is wrapped in dreariness gray,
The poesy paused, and the weekday's dull prose
Ascended the throne-the thorn for the rose!
No candles are lighted for mothers to bless,
The queen's jewels are hidden and changed is her
dress;

The Talith is folded, the incense suppressed,

The golden-clasped Bible is laid in the chest ;

A fire is set to the drippings of wine,

The Habdalah light quenched in the smouldering shine;

The last of the wine cup is drained by the young,
And Zemiroth, last strain of the Sabbath is sung;
Unaccountable sadness, some shadowy pain

On the mind and the memory lies like a stain;
The heart with the tumult of being is tossed,
The swords they are blazing, the Paradise 's lost!
The shadow-the shadow replaces the sun,
The last strain of Sabbath's Zemiroth is sung.

ALTER ABELSON.

The Last Sabbath Light

THE

'HE last lone Sabbath candle sheds
Its light as pure as Torah;

Three other wicks as black as night
Lie spent in the Menorah.

Without, the darkness gathers thick;
The window panes are frozen-
"Oh, God, let not for my last breath
A pall of gloom be chosen.

"On me a mother's tears were shed
One evening of each seven;

So gather up my dying flame

And build a star in heaven."

H. ROSENBLATT.

(Translated by Leah W. Leonard.)

Selichoth

WHEN the pride of the rose is the image of sor

row,

And the leaf that is yellow, steals joy from to-mor

row,

When the night is the darkest, and the stars are the

brightest,

When sleep is the soundest, and dreams are the light

est,

When warm is the home, and the heavens are chilly, And soft is the couch, and the rising is hilly,

When the nests and the flowers are dreaming and sleeping,

Who is it, with heaven is silently weeping

As he dashes a dream from his dim drowsy eye, When searching for signs of the dawn in the sky? Who is it in shadows, a lantern is lighting,

And fondles a hymnal, days darkened with blighting,

The covers all frayed, and the folios yellowed;
Ah, ages with ages of tear stains here followed;
Who is it with hymnal o'er mountains is running,
Through mists that are mazy, and ways that are cun-
ning,

O'er royalties fallen with manifold sighings,
Where the spirit of autumn is silently crying,

O'er Eden in ruins though dewdrops are falling,
Where things that are widowed and orphaned are
calling,

Through bowers where silent the birds are in dreaming

Of songs they will sing when the heavens are beam

ing,

O'er gems that are sparkling on bluebells and grasses,
O'er flowers unseen, like a spirit who passes

With the dew on his brow, the malign mists defy-
ing?

'Tis the Jew, who to God from the shadow is flying,
And the night's shining soul with a star and a ray,
It brothers the palmer to pray for the Day-
The synagogue seeks he with lights all ashimmer,
And finds there the daylight ere morning stars glim-

mer;

Behold it is Selichoth-the storming of heaven
With prayers and tears till with woe it is riven;
And all the white hymns that are winged with white

fire,

And shod with the lightnings of souls that aspire, Make way through the seraphs that stand by His glory,

And tell the Almighty sad Israel's story.

O hearken how myriads of martyrs are crying,
And ages with ages in sorrows are vying!

"O God, who of mercy made sceptre and station,
Who keepeth His love to the thousandth generation,
Long suffering heaven, forgiving transgression
How long will we suffer? O, use your compassion,
And banish injustice, and stay the oppressor,

1