The Rabbi kept his temper, though his cheek Paled at the insult, and with voice so meek, He asked the princess if she knew the bin Or jar in which her father kept his wine.
"The bin I know not," quickly she replied,
"But earthen jars have all such wants supplied.”
“In earthen jars!—Ha! Ha! that's very fine— That's where the common people keep their wine; An emperor's is worthy of a greater place; No handsome vessel would such wine disgrace.”
So said the Rabbi; the princess thought that he Could nothing else but full in earnest be; That one who many clever things oft spoke Would ne'er indulge in playing paltry joke;
So to the butler she ran off in haste, And bid him best of all the wines to place In jars of gold; the butler quick obeyed (A princess' word must never be gainsaid), Took from the earthen jars the wine so old, And poured it into those of finest gold.
When next the wine was to the princess brought, It tasted flat and stale; 'twas then she thought On her the Rabbi some foul trick had played, And, finding him, she, flushed with anger, said, "So, Rabbi, do you know the wine I poured In golden vessels, is all spoiled and soured?" To which the Rabbi, with a touch of pride, And sterner accent than before, replied,
"Then have you learned a lesson, princess mine; 'Tis not the vessel's beauty makes the wine; Neither doth knowledge find a resting-place Behind a fair more than an ugly face."
HE DOETH HIS ALMS TO BE SEEN OF MEN
A poor little girl in a tattered gown, Wandering alone through the crowded town, All weary and worn, on the curb sat down, By the side of the way to rest; Bedimmed with tears were her eyes of brown, Her hands on her bosom pressed.
The night was approaching—the winter's chill blast That fell on the child as it hurried past, Congealed the tears that were falling fast From the poor little maiden's eyes; The blinding snow on her pale cheek cast, Unheeded her plaintive cry.
Now hurriedly passing along the street, She catches the sound of approaching feet; And wearily rises, as if to entreat
Some aid from the passer-by;
But slowly and sadly resumes her seat, Repelled by the glance of his eye.
He saw the wind tempest resistlessly hurl The gathering snow-flakes with many a whirl, Upon her bare head, where each soft-shining curl Was swept by the breath of the storm; But what did he care for the little girl,- His raiment was ample and warm!
He went to a charity meeting that night, And spoke, to the listeners' great delight, Of how 'twas the duty of all to unite The suffering poor to relieve;
And held up a check for a thousand at sight, So all of the crowd could perceive.
He handed the check to the treasurer, when The audience applauded again and again, But the angel who holds the recording pen This sentence, methinks, did record: He doeth his alms to be seen of men; Their praise is his only reward."
The paper next morning had much to say Of how the "good gentleman" did display His generous spirit in giving away
So much for the poor man's cause. He smiled as he read his own praise that day, And thought of the night's applause.
Near by the same paper went on to repeat A story they'd heard, of how, out on the street, A watchman, at dawning of morn, on his beat, A poor little child had found,-
With only the snow for a winding-sheet,- Frozen to death on the ground!
Ah! who can declare that when God shall unfold Eternity's records, he will not hold
Him guilty of murder, who seeks with his gold,
In charity's name, to buy
The praises of men, while out in the cold
He leaves a poor child to die!
THE MORNING PSALM
"Read us a Psalm, my little one." An untried day had just begun, And, ere the city's rush and roar Came passing through the closed home door, The family was hushed to hear
The youngest child, in accents clear, Read from the Book. A moment's space- The morning look died from each face,- The sharp, keen look, that goes to meet Opposing force, nor brooks defeat.
"I will lift up mine eyes," she read, "Unto the hills." Who was afraid? What had the Psalm of pilgrim life To do with all our modern strife? "Behold, He that doth Israel keep Shall neither slumber, nor shall sleep; The Lord thy keeper is, and He
Thy shade on thy right hand shall be; The sun by day shall not thee smite, The moon shall hurt thee not by night."
And the child finished the old Psalm,
And those who heard grew strong and calm; The music of the Hebrew words
Thrilled them like sweet remembered chords, And brought the heights of yesterday Down to the lowlands of to-day, And seemed to lend to common things A mystery as of light and wings; And each one felt in gladsome mood, And life was beautiful and good.
Then forth, where duty's clarion call Was heard, the household hastened all, In crowded haunts of busy men To toil with book, or speech, or pen ; To meet the day's demand with skill, And bear, and do, and dare, and will, As they must who are in the strife And strain and stress of modern life, And would succeed, but who yet hold Honor of higher worth than gold.
These are the days of peace we say, Yet fiercest fights are fought to-day;
And those who formed that household band Had need of strength, that they might stand In firmness and unruffled calm;-
But sweetly did their morning Psalm Amid the clamor, loud and long,
Like echo of a once-loved song,
Rise in their hearts and make them strong.
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