THE QUESTION OF AGES

This Question of The Jew that will not downThe Riddle not yet solved by Gentile brain,

For tho' we kick and cuff, and sneer and frown, There as accused thing-they still remain.

They and their Hebrow Book so close entwined We cannot wrest it from them in our hate, Who ever reads THE BOOK aright will find One from other stands not separate.

So we of Gentile Race are loath to think That our best thoughts are colored by Jew Book, Their Ten Commandments like a golden link, That it were madness if the mind forsook!

We are so weary of this Book that lies
As 'twere a mountain before erring feet,
It grows a hated object to our eyes
Were as beasts we'd rend it with our teeth.

And this the madness-if we read aright
It solves the Riddle of The Jewish Race!
Gentiles an interregnum in God's sight;
We for our wickedness shall know disgrace!

Lo, we have stolen the Promises from Jews,
Speak as if CHRIST a Gentile to the core,
Our inmost thoughts for evermore refuse
That we should bow down and a Jew adore.

Thus when we've made our boasts a mountain high, And lulled ourselves with many a honeyed phrase, Christians shriek out, "That Jewish Hopes passed by!" Lo, we are startled in These Latter Days

We hear the dry bones rattle on the plainBones move to bones before our startled eyesWhat shall Jew Nation-Roman hate had slain— Grim Skeleton from grave again arise!

Jew-Christ stands out, no wizen to the sight,
But strong and mighty with a thunder tone,
Crushing as egg shells every Gentile Might
So rend and shatter every Gentile Throne.

CHRIST, Jewish King, with His imperial sway
Stands up The Czar Imperial of The World!
His flag of glory floating night and day
Through Glorious ages-never to be furled!

Outspoken Gentile Hate would fain conceive
The Scriptures speak not, as they plainly do,
"We never, never, never will believe
The earth shall own the thralldom of the Jew!"

But comes JEW-KING in spite of deadly hate,
Serene and calm, majestic in His power,
Moving unchecked in awful, silent state,
By one word conquer in His Golden Hour.

A GOLDEN SONG

A golden song keeps ringing in my ears—
It comforts all my sorrows, dries my tears,
It gives to things of this age second place,
It touches an illimitable space,

Lifting my horizon to such vistas rare
As if were fadeless blossoms everywhere,
And music rarefied of all harsh tone,
And the sweet peace, that He can give alone,
So seems earth's trials like to paltry things,
And every passing hour the nearer brings
Surcease from sorrow, bitterness and pain,
On the rare day THE CHRIST comes back again.