No, it is not easy to travel in the steerage; not because there is not room enough, nor air enough, nor food enough, although that is all true; but because it is hard to believe down there that the God of Israel is not dead, nor His arm shortened, if not broken, like those of the Greek deities.
Yet they still have faith in Him, these children of His, who have waited for the fulfillment of His promises. They still wait, although “Jerusalem the golden” is a far away dream, and they are scattered wanderers over the face of the earth.
Friday night, with the coming of the first star, all those who believed, met, to voice their faith in Jehovah.
In a corner of the steerage quarters, while the eyes of the Gentiles looked inquisitively on, they turned towards Zion, and lifting up their voices, greeted the Sabbath: “Come, my beloved, thou Sabbath bride,” “Lcho dody L Crass Calo.” They sang this one joyous song of Israel, and stretched out their arms as if to press this spiritual bride to their rest-hungry souls.
They do not doubt that Jehovah will guide the destinies of Israel, and that the Sabbath bride will some day descend upon the earth to abide forever, bringing rest and peace to the Israel of God.
At last the great heart of the ship has ceased its mighty throbbing, and but a gentle tremor tells that its life has not all been spent in the battle with wind and waves. The waters are of a quieter colour, and over them hovers the morning mist. The silence of the early dawn is broken only by the sound of deep-chested ferry-boats which pass into the mist and out of it, like giant monsters, stalking on their cross beams over the deep. The steerage is awake after its restless night and mutely awaits the disclosures of its own and the new world’s secrets. The sound of a booming gun is carried across the hidden space, and faint touches of flame struggling through the gray, are the sun’s answer to the salute from Governor’s Island. The morning breeze, like a “Dancing Psaltress,” moves gently over the glassy surface of the water, lifts the fog higher and higher, tearing it into a thousand fleecy shreds, and the far things have come near and the hidden things have been revealed. The sky line straight ahead, assaulted by a thousand towering shafts, looking like a challenge to the strong, and a warning to the weak, makes all of us tremble from an unknown fear.