we do, the eternal truth
preached by prophet and extolled by psalmist, that on the glad day when
the unity of God is acknowledged, all the nations of the earth will form
a single confederacy, banded together for love and peace.

The open-eyed student of Jewish history, in which the Falashas form a
very small chapter, cannot fail to note with reverence the power and
sacredness of its genius. The race, the faith, the confession, all is
unparalleled. Everything about it is wonderful--from Abraham at Ur of
the Chaldees shattering his father's idols and proclaiming the unity of
God, down to Moses teaching awed mankind the highest ethical lessons
from the midst of the thunders and flames of Sinai; to the heroes and
seers, whose radiant visions are mankind's solace; to the sweet singers
of Israel extolling the virtues of men in hymns and songs; to the
Maccabean heroes struggling to throw off the Syrian yoke; to venerable
rabbis proof against the siren notes of Hellenism; to the gracious bards
and profound thinkers of Andalusia. The genius of Jewish history is
never at rest. From the edge of the wilderness it sweeps on to the lands
of civilization, where thousands of martyrs seal the confession of God's
unity with death on ruddy pyres; on through tears and blood, over
nations, across thrones, until the sun of culture, risen to its zenith,
sends its rays even into the dark Ghetto, where a drama enacts itself,
melancholy, curious, whose last act is being played under our very eyes.
Branch after branch is dropping from the timeworn, weatherbeaten trunk.
The ground is thickly strewn with dry leaves. Vitality that resisted
rain and storm seems to be blasted by sunshine. Yet we need not despair.
The genius of Jewish history has the balsam of consolation to offer. It
bids us read in the old documents of Israel's spiritual struggles, and
calls to our attention particularly a parable in the Midrash, written
when the need for its telling was as sore as to-day: A wagon loaded with
glistening axes was driven through the woods. Plaintive cries arose from
the trees: "Woe, woe, there is no escape for us, we are doomed to swift
destruction." A solitary oak towering high above the other trees stood
calm, motionless. Many a spring had decked its twigs with tender,
succulent green. At last it speaks; all are silent, and listen
respectfully: "Possess yourselves in peace. All the axes in the world
cannot harm you, if you do not provide them with ha