It is written, Prov. vii. 4, “Say unto Chokmah, Thou art my sister.”(878) For there is given one Chokmah (Male), and there is also given another Chokmah (Female). And this Woman is called the Lesser Chokmah in respect of the other. And therefore is it written, Cant. viii. 8, “We have a little sister and she hath no breasts.” For in this exile (_i.e._, separated from the King) She appeareth unto us to be “our little sister.” At first, indeed, she is small, but she becometh great and greater, until she becometh the Spouse whom the King taketh unto Himself. As it is written, Cant. viii. 10, “I am a wall, and my breasts are like towers.” “And my breasts,” etc., since they are full with the nourishment of all things;(879) “like towers,” because they are the great rivers which flow forth from Aima the Supernal. HEBREW MELODIES Translated by Mrs. Henry Lucas Ode To Zion Art thou not, Zion, fain To send forth greetings from thy sacred rock Unto thy captive train, Who greet thee as the remnants of thy flock? Take thou on every side— East, west, and south, and north—their greetings multiplied. Sadly he greets thee still, The prisoner of hope, who, day and night, Sheds ceaseless tears, like dew on Hermon’s hill— Would that they fell upon thy mountain’s height! Harsh is my voice when I bewail thy woes, But when in fancy’s dream I see thy freedom, forth its cadence flows Sweet as the harps that hung by Babel’s stream. My heart is sore distressed For Bethel ever blessed, For Peniel, and each ancient, sacred place. The holy presence there To thee is present where Thy Maker opes thy gates, the gates of heaven to face. The glory of the Lord will ever be Thy sole and perfect light; No need hast thou, then, to illumine thee, Of sun by day, or moon and stars by night. I would that, where God’s Spirit was of yore Poured out unto thy holy ones, I might There too my soul outpour! The house of kings and throne of God wert thou, How comes it then that now Slaves fill the throne where sat thy kings before? Oh! who will lead me on To seek the posts where, in far-distant years, The angels in their glory dawned upon Thy messengers and seers? Oh! who will give me wings That I may fly away, And there, at rest from all my wanderings, The ruins of my heart among thy ruins lay? I’ll bend my face unto thy soil, and hold Thy stones as precious gold. And when in Hebron I have stood beside My fathers’ tombs, then will I pass in turn Thy plains and forest wide, Until I stand on Gilead and discern Mount Hor and Mount Abarim, ’neath whose crest Thy luminaries twain, thy guides and beacons rest.