In sunny Spain, the Inquisition dread

Cast him in dungeons terrible and dire,
And with a thousand tortures racked his form,
Then led him forth unto the death of fire.

Oh, shame! that such a fearful blot as this
Should stain the history of the Spanish land,
And deathless infamy forever rest

On Torquemada and his hated band!

Where'er the Hebrew roamed, on land or sea,
Did persecution follow in his path,

And furious mobs deemed it a noble act

To vent on him their hatred and their wrath.

Ten thousand martyrs died for Israel's cause,
With fortitude sublime, 'mid smoke and flame;
And while their cruel foes stood mocking 'round
They called on God and blessed His sacred name!

Through all the horrors of that fearful time, Through gloom and death, the Hebrew saw afar, With faith's unfailing and undying eye,

Beyond the clouds, hope's bright and glorious

star.

He knew that God would rise 'gainst Israel's foes As, long ago, upon the Red Sea coast,

With miracles He saved His chosen race,

And in the sea 'whelmed Pharaoh's mighty host.

And gloriously was that bright trust fulfilled,
For Israel triumphed over every foe,
And marching on with undiminished zeal,
Emerged in triumph from the night of woe.

Yes, Judah proudly stands, 'midst all mankind,
Once more as beautiful, sublime, and grand
As when, in blessed days of old, she stood
A mighty nation in the Holy Land.

Weep not, O Israel, for thy martyred ones,

For though no monuments rise o'er their tombs, Yet fame upon the sacred spot shall shed

Her fairest garlands and her brightest blooms.

Their names are grav'n on honor's deathless page,
And on the scroll of glory written high:
And though earth's proudest monuments decay,
Their deeds sublime will never, never die!

Mourn not, O Israel, for the glorious past;
The future holds a destiny more grand;
For 'tis thy mission great to teach God's laws
To the inhabitants of every land,

And cause the nations of the world to know
That unto Him alone shall prayers ascend,
And that before His great majestic throne

All men in reverent suppliance shall bend.

Oh! may the time soon come when o'er the earth
In thunder tones the glad acclaim will ring,
And nations, taking up the shout, shall cry,
"The God of Judah is our Lord and King!"

Thus Israel's ancient glory will return,

And Israel's banner be again unfurled;
Thus will the star of peace and promise dawn,
And shed its radiant lustre on the world!

MAX MEYERHARDT

160

OUR EVERLASTING FRIEND

Divine Disposer of events,

To whom all praise belongs!
Each attribute of Thine presents
A theme for countless songs.
Though mortal years were multiplied
A thousand thousand fold;
Yet time would scarcely be supplied
Thy powers to unfold.

In timid tones if angels speak

Of Thee, all-knowing God,

How then shall man, minute and weak,

Thy excellencies laud?

All heights and depths in nature's bound

Are visible to Thee:

The lofty heart, the mind profound,

The mountain and the sea.

PENINA MOÏSE

161

REST

When God at first made Man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by,
Let Us (said He) pour on him all We can;
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way,

Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honor, pleasure;
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone of all His treasure
Rest at the bottom lay.

For if I should (said He)

Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore My gifts instead of Me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
So both would losers be.

Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.

· GEORGE HERBERT

162

PROVIDENCE

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful souls, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by fearful sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain ;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

WILLIAM COWPER