Rosh-Hashanah

I STOOD, to-day, in a temple,

Like one of the olden time;

And I dreamt a dream recalling

The scenes in an Orient clime;

And I felt, though somewhat strangely,

An influence sublime!

And before me hung the tablets

Of the old Mosaic law;

And the white-robed ancient Rabbis,

Again, in that dream I saw;

And the Hebrew psalms are chanted,

Those hymns of praise and awe.

And Israel’s pristine splendor

Arose, as in days of old,

When each prophet after prophet

His tale of promise told;

And the shades of by-gone glories

Before my vision rolled.

’Tis the New Year of the Hebrew;

That ancient sacred day,

When the memories of the ages,

Awake from time’s decay,

And the hopes of future glories

Are bright as the morning’s ray!

I beheld the chosen children

Of the Great Eternal God,

Still bend in mute submission

To sorrow’s painful rod;

Desirous still to follow

The road by their fathers trod.

And I asked if a faith so lofty

Could be but a passing show?

And the echoes of the by-gone

Replied to my doubtings, “No.”

And I felt in their constant waiting,

Their strength must nobler grow!