Lines to a Jewish Child

IN the dark depths of those great soulful eyes,

My little Hebrew lad, I fain would read

The marvelous history of thy marvelous race;

The patience, silent suffering, cruel wrongs,

The courage shrinking not from tortuous death;

The constancy that wavers not or turns,

The faith and trust of deep devotion born,

The hope that triumphs over every woe,

The love of kindred, reverence for age,

The virtues manifold that make thy race.

Truly, God’s chosen people these must be,

Else long since had they perished from the earth.

When blushing I recall the insults foul

That we have heaped on them in Christ’s dear name,

And think how meekly they that own not Christ

Have suffered all and struggled bravely on,

Through sorrow, persecution, torture, death—

I can conceive, my little Hebrew lad,

What pride a Jew must feel to be a Jew!