But ere he slept himthought he heard a sound
That caused his heart to throb, his flesh to creep--
The ghostly knocking of his daily round--
And, trembling, to his child he cried in fear:
"Some one is dying, daughter, dost thou hear?"

She heard the sound and answered with a cry,
Love teaching her: "Oh! it is he, mine own:
Rabbi Ben Horad is about to die--
Oh! father, haste! life may not yet have flown;
Bid all our people pray, that God may hear,
And in His mercy turn a willing ear."

All through the night the faithful people prayed
That their beloved Rabbi still might live;
And by their prayers the hand of death was stayed,
Yet could their prayers no greater favor give;
And so he lingered, while she watched the strife,
With sinking heart, waged between death and life.

Then, as a last resort, from door to door
The young men went, that all who wished might give
Some space of time out of their own life's store,
That yielded to the Rabbi he might live.
Some gave a year, a month a week, a day,
But wheresoe'r they went none said them nay.

At last they sought the maid and gravely asked:
"What wilt thou give, O maiden?" and she cried--
By his sad plight her deathless love unmasked--