Resting 'neath the lofty cedars,
Led by Jordan's tranquil stream,
Thy long term of tribulation,

Shall but seem a troubled dream.
Yes, a dream, from which awaking,
Thou shalt feel distress no more;
As a voyager rejoicing,

To regain his native shore.

Stricken Israel, meekly bending,
Ask thy father to forgive;
Turn to Him with prayer and weeping,
Turn, for thou shalt surely live.
Soon shall come the Second Advent,
Of thine own anointed Lord;
Jesus is thy King and Saviour;
Thy salvation-his reward."

As a diadem of glory,

Thou shalt deck Messiah's brow;
Beautiful, and pure, and radiant,
Though despised it may be now.
First and chief among the nations,
Princes to thy rule shall bend,
While from every hill of Zion,
Shouts of joy and praise ascend.

Son of David-root of Jesse!

We would never give thee rest,
Till thy banished ones returning,
In thine own fair land are blest.
Till within thy holy Temple,

Meet once more thy chosen race,
And thou shalt to every people,
Spread the blessings of thy grace.

J. T.

LONDON: Printed at the Operative Jewish Converts' Institution, Palestine Place, Bethnal Green.

ABLIC

LONDON:

SOLD AT THE LONDON SOCIETY'S HOUSE,

3, CHATHAM PLACE, BLACKFRIARS.

WERTHEIM AND MACINTOSH, 24, PATERNOSTER ROW;

HATCHARD AND SON, PICCADILLY;

BELLERBY AND SON, YORK,

LONDON:

Printed at the Operative Jewish Converts' Institution,

Palestine Place, Bethnal Green.