Let, in praise of God, the sound Run a never-ending round, That our holy hymn may be From the earth's vast hollow tomb, So shall He, from Heaven's high tower There our voices we will rear GEORGE WITHER 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, 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, 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 The snowy Sabbath-cloth; the Hebrew tome, The flask and cup are at the table's head; There's Sabbath magic in the very bread; And royal fare the humble dishes seem; A holy light the Sabbath candles shed; Around, his children's shining faces beam; He feels the strife of every day a far-off dream. 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 No evil can this night its head uprear; Earth's joys loom larger, and its ills decrease; To-night of ghosts the youngest has no fearDoes not his guardian Sabbath Angel hover near? |