Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917.
By AnonymousRabbi Ben Hissar
R
Beyond the city gates. His way
Lay toward a spot where his own hand
Had buried deep within the sand
A treasure vast of gems and gold
He dared not trust to man to hold.
A pallid figure met his sight—
An awful shape—he knew full well
’Twas the great Angel Azrael.
The dreadful presence froze his breath;
He waited tremblingly for death.
A message. Rabbi Ben-Hissar,
One thing the Lord hath asked of thee
To prove thy love and loyalty.
Therefore now I am come to bring
Thy rarest jewel to thy King.”
“All that I have is his!” he said.
The angel vanished. All that day
He rode upon his lonely way
Wondering much what precious stone
God would have chosen for his own.
But when he reached the spot he found
No other hand had touched the ground.
“It was a dream!” he sadly cried.
“I thought that God would deign to take
Of my poor store for his dear sake.
But ’twas a dream! My brightest gem
Would have no luster meet for him!”
Back to the vale where the city lay.
The path was long, but when he came
Unto the street which bore his name
He saw his house stand dark and drear,
No voice of welcome, none of cheer.
Lo! Death had stricken his only son!
Clay he lay, in the darkened hall,
On the stolid bier, with the funeral pall.
The pale death-angel Azrael
Had chosen a jewel that pleased him well.
Rabbi Ben-Hissar bent his head.
“I thank thee, Lord,” was all he said.