s is the rest forever sure,
This is the heritage,
Whose goodness and whose bliss endure
Unchanged from age to age.

This is the land the spirit knows
That everlastingly
With milk and honey overflows--
And such its fruit shall be.

SOLOMON IBN GEBIROL.

The Heart's Desire

Lord! unto Thee are ever manifest
My inmost heart's desires, though unexprest
In spoken words. Thy mercy I implore
Even for a moment--then to die were blest.

Oh! if I might but win that grace divine,
Into Thy hand, O Lord, I would resign
My spirit then, and lay me down in peace
To my repose, and sweetest sleep were mine.

Afar from Thee in midst of life I die,
And life in death I find, when Thou art nigh.
Alas! I know not how to seek Thy face,
Nor how to serve and worship Thee, Most High.

Oh! lead me in Thy path, and turn again
My heart's captivity, and break in twain
The yoke of folly: teach me to afflict
My soul, the while I yet life's strength retain.

Despise not Thou my lowly penitence,
Ere comes the day, when, deadened every sense,
My limbs too feeble grown to bear my weight,
A burden to myself, I journey hence.

When to the all-consuming moth a prey,
My wasted form sinks slowly to decay,
And I shall seek the place my fathers sought,
And find my rest there where at rest are they.

I am on earth a sojourner, a guest,
And my inheritance is in her breast,
My youth has sought as yet its own desires,
When will my soul's true welfare be my quest?

The world is too much with me, and its din
Prevents my search eternal peace to win.
How can I serve my Maker when my heart
Is passion's captive, is a slave to sin?

But should I strive to scale ambition's height,
Who with the worm may sleep ere fall of night?
Or can I joy in happiness to-day
Who know not what may chance by morning's light?

My days and nights will soon, with restless speed,
Consume life's remnant yet to me decreed;
Then half my body shall the winds disperse,
Half will return to dust, as dust indeed.

What more can I allege? From youth to age
Passion pursues me still at every stage.
If Thou art not my portion, what is mine?
Lacking Thy favor, what my heritage?

Bare of good deeds, scorched by temptation's fire,
Yet to Thy mercy dar