O Israel! wandering in all lands afar,
Thy faith of old-be still thy guiding star,
And thy bright temple shall show forth again-
The shining glories of thine ancient reign.

M. BEYER.

Poetry

OD made the world with rhythm and rime—

GOD

The sun's refrain he made the moon;

He swung the stars to beat in time

And set the universe in tune.
He gave the seas their mighty tongue,
He gave his winds their lyric wings,
And thus the very soul of Song

Was woven in the scheme of things.

To-day this wonder was revealed
Upon a twilight colored plain;
I saw it in the town and field,

I heard it in the singing rain.
The bows and birds repeated it,

The streams intoned it as they ran, And then I saw how closely knit Were God and Poetry with man.

A rift of sky-a group of trees,
A ripple and a swallow's dart,
The cadence of a dying breeze,

Like sudden music, swept my heart;
A laughing child looked up and sprang
To greet me at the homeward climb-
And all about me surged and sang

The world God made with rhythm and rime.
LOUIS UNTERMEYER.

WE

Our Heritage

E own no kingdom and we flaunt no king,
No crown is ours to mock at or obey,

No superficial homage do we bring

To any dastard tyranny to-day;

Our realms have broadened to the mighty world, The boundaries of our rule stretch far and wide, Our racial flag is evermore unfurled,

Where Jewish souls in freedom's air abide, Our citadel is truth; our empty home,

Our ramparts are the laws to make us wise, Eternal as the azure-vaulted dome,

Our heritage from Heaven never dies;

And from the nations' flux and change and strife, The Jews draw strenuous force and vigorous life. ISIDORE G. ASCHER.

Israel's Heritage

HOW shall we spend, O Lord,

Our priceless heritage;

The wealth of Holy Writ (Thy Word),
Bequeathed from age to age.

How shall we use the garnered store
Of Israel's ancient song and lore?

Shall we, like misers, hoard

The jewels in our care;

The gems, by Seer and Prophet stored,
That all mankind might share;

The law from Sinai's summit hurled
To speak in thunder to the world.

Shall we not spread broadcast

This wealth that shall endure? These seeds of Faith, that in the past

Burst into blossoms pure:

Whose roots were nourished through the years By martyred Israel's blood and tears.

Heirs or thy Love are we,

The First-born, chosen race;
Holding in trust the legacy
No tyrant can efface!

Life of our life, breath of our breath,
Outliving scorn, and hate and death!

O let our Fathers preach

Thy glory and Thy fame!
O let our tender mothers teach
Their babes to lisp thy name;
That Israel in each coming age
May claim its precious heritage!

IDA GOLDSMITH MORRIS.

Fin de Siècle

WHAT! do I hear the nations boast

Of what the century's shown,

The while on Corfu's distant coast
The persecuted groan?

The while in Russia's spreading space
No smallest place is found
Whereon a guiltless hunted race

May find a resting ground?
The while e'en noblest charity
But little can avail,

And bitter, widespread misery

Relates a woful tale?

The while some starve and have no bed

While others roll in gold,

And socialism's spirit dread

The problem would unfold?

The while in Europe's cultured lands

Vast armies still maintain,

And men must learn from skilled commands

How men may best be slain?

And to achieve this worldly lore

Must work more worthy cease,

Constrained to practice art of war

In time of doubtful peace?

The while so many a labor-strike
Speaks of injustice rife,

On man and master's side alike,
And leads to endless strife?

The while so many wretched cry
In vain for Work? Oh, say!
Is aught herein to glorify?

Or reason for dismay!

Hope and Faith

ANONYMOUS.

HOPE! Not distant is the Springtime,

Butterflies will soon be winging—

In new nests the merry songsters

Their new songs will soon be singing.

Know! The night itself will vanish,
Cloudlands drift and melt away—
Once again will skies shine azure,
Stars by night and suns by day.

New the roses, new the flowers,
Spring's new odors flow in waves,
Brilliant colors, scents and singing

Will arise above our graves.

ISAAC LEIB PEREZ.

(Translated by Henry Goodman.)

Not by Power

"Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, saith the lord of hosts."-Zachariah iv., 6.

NOT by power

Blooms the flower

Of a growth unseen;

Ye shall find it,

Ye shall bind it

On your brows serene.

Not by might
Darkest night

Yields at dawn this prize;

Springing surely,
Slowly, purely,

It shall humbly rise.

Faith is mine,

Love Divine

Is its scented breath;

Faith that brightens,

Cheers, enlightens,

It shall conquer death!

MARY M. COHEN.

१

Lines

Written on hearing a learned Lawyer say in Court, that "the Jews were hated alike by God and man."

SAY not that we are cut off by Thee, Guardian of

Israel's race;

Despite of all our waywardness, in Thy love we hold a place;

And in our dark and bitter hours, we still can turn to

Thee

For guidance or for comfort, when earthly pleasures

flee.

Not utterly abhorred by Thee!-man cannot trace Thy

ways

Nor reach into Thy hidden path, O Thou of ancient days.

And must we still be taunted and told we are forgot. Condemned alike by Thee and man, our destiny a blot.

Believe it not, believe it not! we are God's chosen still To whom He hath in mercy given the records of His will!