| |
| OUTWORN by studious toil and age, | |
| The Rabbi Assi, saintly sage, | |
| Upon his humble pallet lay, | |
| Awaiting death, at close of day. | |
| Silent and sad amid the gloom | 5 |
| Of that poor, pathetic room, | |
| Some fond disciple hovered near, | |
| Intent his parting words to hear. | |
| The mellow light of sunset spread | |
| A glory round his snow-white head, | 10 |
| And as, amazed, they saw the trace | |
| Of tears upon his pallid face, | |
| One came and knelt beside the bed, | |
| Caressed the thin, white hand, and said: | |
| “Dear Rabbi, wherefore weepest thou? | 15 |
| Let no sad thoughts disquiet now | |
| The peace of thy departure hence | |
| To heavenly rest and recompense. | |
| Thou hast been pure in heart and mind, | |
| Meek, modest, patient, gentle, kind, | 20 |
| Recall with gratitude and joy | |
| Thy consecrated life’s employ. | |
| Devoted to the sacred law, | |
| Thou didst unselfishly withdraw | |
| From all publicities; and when | 25 |
| With one accord thy fellow-men | |
| Chose thee their judge, thou didst refuse | |
| All worldly service, and didst choose | |
| To live sequestered from all care, | |
| For God, in study and in prayer.” | 30 |
| |
| “Cease,” cried the Rabbi in distress, | |
| “Make not my cup of bitterness | |
| More bitter with the shame and pain | |
| Of praise as ignorant as vain. | |
| My soul is sorrowful, my son, | 35 |
| For public duties left undone. | |
| I mourn the quest of truth pursued | |
| In disregard of brotherhood; | |
| The narrow, blind, scholastic zeal | |
| That heeded not the common weal; | 40 |
| The subtle selfishness and pride | |
| In which I put the world aside | |
| And sought an individual good | |
| In self-complacent solitude, | |
| Withheld my aid and stayed my hand | 45 |
| From truth and justice in the land, | |
| And weakly failed to exercise | |
| The law in which I would be wise. | |
| |
| “Wherefore with tears, I plead with you, | |
| Dear friends, a nobler course pursue, | 50 |
| Beware the self-indulgent mood | |
| Of unconcern for public good. | |
| Think not in cloistered, studious ease | |
| Wisdom to win or God to please. | |
| For wisdom moulders in the mind | 55 |
| That shuts itself from human kind, | |
| And piety, with self-content, | |
| Becomes a barren sentiment, | |
| The bread of life is turned to stone | |
| For him who hoards it as his own. | 60 |
| O see betimes—what late I saw— | |
| That only love fulfills the law, | |
| In loving kindness hear and heed | |
| The plaintive cries of human need, | |
| Protect the weak against the strong, | 65 |
| Uphold the right and right the wrong. | |
| Assuage life’s miseries and pains, | |
| Console its sorrows, cleanse its stains; | |
| Count worthy of all toil and strife | |
| These common interests of life | 70 |
| More precious than the richest store | |
| Of secular or sacred lore— | |
| Your mission and ambition be | |
| God’s service in humanity.” | |
| |
| He paused, and, rapt in silent prayer, | 75 |
| His spirit seemed awhile elsewhere, | |
| And at his prayer the peace was given | |
| For which his sorrowing soul had striven; | |
| At eventide the light had come | |
| To guide him through the darkness home, | 80 |
| Then with a smile of sweet surprise | |
| He woke and lifted up his eyes | |
| And praised the Lord with trembling voice, | |
| He bade his weeping friends rejoice, | |
| And said, “Beloved, let me hear | 85 |
| Once more the Shepherd-psalm of cheer.” | |
| And they repeated, soft and low, | |
| That sweetest song that mortals know; | |
| And then in accents calm and grave | |
| His benison to them he gave. | 90 |
| |
| “May God who comforts my sad heart | |
| And bids me now in peace depart, | |
| Bless, guide and keep you evermore! | |
| Abundantly on you outpour | |
| The riches of his truth and grace, | 95 |
| Show you the favor of His face, | |
| Your minds and hearts with ardor fill | |
| To know and do His holy will. | |
| With heavenly wisdom make you wise | |
| In service and self-sacrifice, | 100 |
| Give you rich fruits of toil and tears, | |
| And—after long and useful years— | |
| The blessedness of those who come | |
| With sheaves and songs, rejoicing, home.” | |
| |
| The Rabbi’s failing strength was spent. | 105 |
| In silent sorrow o’er him bent | |
| With bated breath the faithful few, | |
| And heard him faintly say, “Adieu! | |
| The night grows dark! the hour is late! | |
| We now, dear friends, must separate. | 110 |
| A thousand-fold may God requite | |
| Your love and care. Good-by; Good-night! | |
| And peaceful rest till break of day!” | |
So Rabbi Assi passed away.
——— | |
| Fact, legend, parable of old? | 115 |
| What matters—so the truth be told— | |
| Historic or fictitious frame? | |
| The Rabbi’s likeness is the same. | |
| And whosoever hath an ear | |
| To hear his counsel, let him hear! | 120 |
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