Kol Nidré

IN lonely hours of thought I long

To hear again that sacred song,

So solemn, beautiful and soft,

Which years ago I heard so oft!

No song of war or jilted love,

Nor of the moon and stars above;

A wandering tribe without a goal

Asks pardon from its very soul.

Kol Nidré, masterpiece of art,

Thou outcry of a weary heart,

Sublime, seraphic, seems to me

The sweetness of thy melody.

No other song is half so rich,

And none may ever so bewitch

Like thee—For magic is thy spell

O hymn of Israel.