And woe and woe and woe is all my worlds!
Let all the seven heavens moan for pity.
To bring such sacrifices all for nothing,

To live such lives and die such deaths for nothing,
Not knowing to what end, for what, for what!
Her head enwrapped in clouds, my old Shekinah
Shall sit for evermore and weep for shame;
And night by night I too will lean from heaven,
And mourn myself upon your graves.

CHAYIM NACHMAN BYALIK.

The Jewish Martyrs

FROM far Siberia's frozen plains,
They cry to heaven, they cry to us!
We hear the clanking of their chains
And turn away! Not thus, not thus,
Our fathers, were your hearts made cold
By lust of power, by greed of gold!

They have not feared the scaffold rope,

Nor cringed for whip or knotted cord;
They give up all and keep their hope;

They die and call no despot lord;
Before the heaven that made men free,
They testify for liberty.

Who gave their tyrants leave to smite

Truth's witnesses with knout or rod?
Who says such wrongs are in heaven's right,
He lives before the throne of God,
And all the blood by despots shed,
Shall be a curse upon his head!

If to our altar one should come,

With the czar's hounds upon his track,
Could e'en our buried dead be dumb
Were we so base to drive him back,
Were we such craven, venal slaves,
Among our myriad hero-graves?

W. V. B.

The Persecuted Jew

WHEN strife is rampant in the world,

And men and devils loudly cheer;
The hearts of men have turned to stone,
And cruel monsters, laugh and sneer.
In sorrow and the darkest gloom,

Our brother Jew has suffered long;
The God of Israel knows His own,
He their King is great and strong.

Defend the people, God of hosts,

Thou God of Israel, grand and great;
Look down and bless that noble race,
And lead them to the golden gate.

STEPHEN TAYLOR DEKİNS.

In the Name of Jesus of Nazareth

(Christmas, 1890)

T

GLOWS once more in the Russian sky, the bloodred dawn of a day of hate

Shrills at the Throne of God, the cry of a people that faints 'neath its cross's weight,

Of a people hounded and done to death

In the name of Jesus of Nazareth.

Bells are ringing and organs peal; a thousand choirs their hymns upraise;

Peasant and pope at the altar kneel, and lone, in his guarded palace, prays

The fear-torn despot; and thus he saith:

In the name of Jesus of Nazareth:

"Father in Heaven, thy reign of love come, and Thy will on this earth be done,

Even as it is in Thy courts above. Forgive us, as we

forgive everyone;

And tempt us never, but keep from scath

In the name of Jesus of Nazareth."

Up to God's throne with the organ's voice and the chime of bells, goes the mob's fierce shout:

Drowned are the hymns by the horrid noise of curses and groans and the thud of knout;

For the tyrant's prayer is a liar's breath-
In the name of Jesus of Nazareth.

Christians, say, shall a savage Tsar blaspheme unchidden the name of Christ?

Yours, not mine, is this holy war, by your faith in him that was sacrificed

By your faith that your souls may be saved from death

In the Name of Jesus of Nazareth!

One is the Father-his sons all men. These brothers of mine are your brothers, too;

Save our brothers, I charge you, then, in their brother's name whom the Romans slew

In his name, who forgave with his dying breath— My brother, Jesus of Nazareth.

How Long?

ANONYMOUS.

HOW long, O Lord, shall sobs and sighs

Re-echo in our ears?

How long, O Lord, shall groans and cries
Compel our flowing tears?

How long, O Lord, shall blood be shed
Of innocent and pure?

How long, O Lord, shall deathly dread
O'er Israel endure?

How long, O Lord, shall darkness reign,
And murder rage unchecked?

How long, O Lord, by crimson stain

Our fateful page be flecked?

How long, O Lord, shall justice sleep
And Truth her head abase?
How long, O Lord, into the deep
Shall sink thy chosen race?

How long, O Lord, in exile yet,
Thy people, must they pine?
How long, O Lord, wilt Thou forget
The mercy that is Thine?

How long, O Lord, until the morn
Of peace and bliss supreme,

When Thy own glory shall adorn

The Zion of our dream?

ISRAEL COHEN.

THOU

Israel in Russia

'HOU art but One! O God to Whom we bow In adoration;

E'en as in Egypt, Thou wilt hear us now

Thy Chosen Nation.

Much have we sinned; far from Thy face have fled,
By passion driven.

Deep our repentance; Thou myself hast said
We are forgiven.

Empires of old upon us heaped their chains,
Burthens and lashes;

Thy thunders rolled-and of their might remains
Stubble and ashes!

Still those we taught to hold Thy Name in awe '.
Smite and berate us;

We are the leash that binds them to Thy Law-
Wherefore they hate us!

Vengeance is Thine! yet Thine is mercy, too. "Shield us, but grieve them

Not!" be our prayer: "They know not what they do. Father! forgive them!"

ARTHUR GUITERMAN.

The Massacre of the Jews
A WAIL comes o'er the swelling seas

From a far land, 'neath eastern skies,
And on the night wind's solemn dirge,
We shuddering hear the shrieks, the cries,
Of that devoted band, who fell

To glut the Moslem's savage hate,
That remnant of Judah's tribes,
The victims of remorseless fate!

What was their crime? Had they rebelled
Against the Sultan's despot power?
Had they with murder in their hearts

Nursed into bloom the Blood-Red Flower
Of war? Say, was it theirs to throw
The olive branch of Peace aside,'
And see all sweet affections drift

To death on the ensanguined tide?

1

They 'neath their vines and fig-trees dwelt,
Pursuing each his peaceful trade,
Chanting at eve their psalms of praise,
Molesting none, of none afraid!

And while the cheerful home fires blazed
At eve, some Patriarch's voice was heard,

While little children gathered round

To list with awe the sacred word!

.But hark! what 'larum fills the air!
A mighty roar as tho' the sea
Had burst its bound engulfing earth,
And holding fierce, wild revelry!