Wherefore, my soul, be still! Adore God’s holy will, Fear death’s supreme decree. Thus mayst thou save thyself, and win high aid To profit thee, When thou, returning to thy Lord, shalt see Thy deeds repaid. Why muse, O troubled soul, O’er life’s poor earthly goal? When thou hast fled, the clay Lies mute, nor bear’st thou aught of wealth, or might With thee that day, But, like a bird, unto thy nest away, Thou wilt take flight. Why for a land lament In which a lifetime spent Is as a hurried breath? Where splendor turns to gloom, and honors show A faded wreath, Where health and healing soon must sink beneath The fatal bow? What seemeth good and fair Is often falsehood there. Gold melts like shifting sands, Thy hoarded riches pass to other men And strangers’ hands, And what will all thy treasured wealth and lands Avail thee then? Life is a vine, whose crown The reaper Death cuts down. His ever-watchful eyes Mark every step until night’s shadows fall, And swiftly flies The passing day, and ah! how distant lies The goal of all. Therefore, rebellious soul, Thy base desires control; With scantly given bread Content thyself, nor let thy memory stray To splendors fled, But call to mind affliction’s weight, and dread The judgment-day. Prostrate and humbled go, Like to the dove laid low, Remember evermore The peace of heaven, the Lord’s eternal rest. When burdened sore With sorrow’s load, at every step implore His succor blest. Before God’s mercy-seat His pardoning love entreat. Make pure thy thoughts from sin, And bring a contrite heart as sacrifice His grace to win— Then will His angels come and lead thee in To Paradise. SOLOMON IBN GEBIROL. Sanctification The sixfold wingèd angels cry To Him, Who hates iniquity: Holy art Thou, O Lord! Holy art Thou! The mighty ones of earth do call To Him, Who has created all: Blessed art Thou, O Lord! Blessed art Thou! They, who in radiance shine, proclaim Of Him, Who wrought them out of flame: Holy art Thou, O Lord! Holy art Thou! Those doubly tried by flood and fire United chant in frequent choir: Blessed art Thou, O Lord! Holy and blest! Pure spheres celestial echoing round, With voice of sweetest song resound: Holy art Thou, O Lord! Holy art Thou! All those redeemèd not by gold, Repeat in faith and joy untold: Blessed art Thou, O Lord! Blessed art Thou!