herish them.

When Goethe in his old age conceived and outlined a scheme of universal
literature, the first place was assigned to Jewish literature. In his
pantheon of the world's poetry, the first tone uttered was to be that
of "David's royal song and harp." But, in general, Jewish literature is
still looked upon as the Cinderella of the world's literatures. Surely,
the day will come when justice will be done, Cinderella's claim be
acknowledged equal to that of her royal sisters, and together they will
enter the spacious halls of the magnificent palace of literature.

Among the prayers prescribed for the Day of Atonement is one of
subordinate importance which affects me most solemnly. When the shadows
of evening lengthen, and the light of the sun wanes, the Jew reads the
_Neilah_ service with fervor, as though he would "burst open the portals
of heaven with his tears," and the inmost depths of my nature are
stirred with melancholy pride by the prayer of the pious Jew. He
supplicates not for his house and his family, not for Zion dismantled,
not for the restoration of the Temple, not for the advent of the
Messiah, not for respite from suffering. All his sighs and hopes, all
his yearning and aspiration, are concentrated in the one thought: "Our
splendor and our glory have departed, our treasures have been snatched
from us; there remains nothing to us but this Law alone." If this is
true; if naught else is left of our former state; if this Law, this
science, this literature, are our sole treasure and best inheritance,
then let us cherish and cultivate them so as to have a legacy to
bequeath to our children to stand them in good stead against the coming
of the _Neilah_ of humanity, the day when brethren will "dwell together
in unity."

Perhaps that day is not far distant. Methinks I hear the rustling of a
new spring-tide of humanity; methinks I discern the morning flush of new
world-stirring ideas, and before my mind's eye rises a bridge, over
which pass all the nations of the earth, Israel in their midst, holding
aloft his ensign with the inscription, "The Lord is my banner!"--the one
which he bore on every battlefield of thought, and which was never
suffered to fall into the enemy's hand. It is a mighty procession moving
onward and upward to a glorious goal: "Humanity, Liberty, Love!"

WOMEN IN JEWISH LITERATURE

Among the songs of the Bible there are two, belonging to the oldest
monuments of poetry, which h