94 THE HEBREW'S FRIDAY NIGHT Sweet Sabbath-Bride, the Hebrew's theme of praise, Around thine head a sacred nimbus plays, In wedding-robe of stainless sunshine drest, Thou dawnest on Life's darkness, and it dies; The bridal-wreath is lilies Heaven-blest, The dowry Peace and Love and Holiness and Rest. For in thy presence he forgets awhile The gloom and discord of man's mortal years, To seek the light that streameth from thy face; To list thy tender lullaby which cheers His soul, and lies like music on his ears. His very sorrows with soft splendor shine, Transfigured by a mist of sacred tears; He drinks thy gently offered Anodyne, And feels himself absorbed into the Peace divine. The Father from the Synagogue returns And from without the festive light discerns He enters and perceives the picture true, As Paradise thus opens on his view, And then he smiles and thanks God he is a Jew. For "Friday-night" is written on his home In fair, white characters; his wife has spread A holy light the Sabbath candles shed; His buxom wife he kisses; then he lays Upon each child's young head, two loving hands Of benediction, so in after-days, When they shall be afar in other lands, They shall be knit to God and home by bands Of sacred memory. And then he makes The blessing o'er the wine, and while each stands, The quaintly convoluted bread he breaks, Which tastes to all to-night more sweet than honeyed cakes. And now they eat the Sabbath meal with laugh Earth's joys loom larger, and its ills decrease; So in a thousand squalid Ghettos penned, Engirt, yet undismayed by perils vast, The Jew, in hymns that marked his faith, would spend This night, and dream of all his glorious Past, And wait the splendors by his seers forecast. And so, while medieval creeds at strife With nature die, the Jew's ideals last; The simple love of home and child and wife, ISRAEL ZANGWILL 95 THE DAY OF REST Come, O Sabbath day, and bring Thou shalt rest! Earthly longings bid retire, Wipe from every cheek the tear; Thou shalt rest! RABBI GUSTAV GOTTHEIL 96 SABBATH THOUGHTS I bless Thee, Father, for the grace I bless Thee that each workday care And every thought whose wing has prayer I bless Thee, Father! Those dark fears That called for murmurs, doubts, and fears, O Thou alone couldst send them hence And with Thy spirit's pure incense Bid workday turmoils cease. GRACE AGUILAR 97 SEDER-NIGHT Prosaic miles of streets stretch all around |