and he proceeded to fix his thought, so says the old story teller, on that Land. He saw that there would he have to make his stand against his enemies. He knew that he must have some place where he could meet the world with his back against a wall of his own building. So thither he went, not without effort spent. He planted himself squarely in the Land of his Birth, and deep was the breath he drew and strong the shake of his mane. Defiant, self-conscious, capable, he began to live his life as he himself would have it. He made his thinking the result of his own experiences. He made his music the music of the world through which he passed. He made his customs what suited him first of all.
But, I asked, what did his enemies?
“Guess,” said the old man.
What kept them off?
“The admiration of the strong for the strong. The respect of the strong for the assertiveness of strength. The confidence of free individuals in others who stood squarely for freedom.”
What would he do should they attack him?
The old snuffer replied: “That would surely not happen; and should it, the old Lion, trust him, will * * * fight! Trust him.”
Israel, List!
I SRAEL list!
1 Thy passions resist; Thy footsteps control, Hence to thy goal, To thy mission awake!
Redeem thy old self, Let others count pelf; Never shall cease, Thy mission be peace— Her banner upfling!
What others call truth Let thine be in sooth; When other say creed, Answer —in deed, Let thy spirit be free!