| |
| ON lovely dwellings fall the fervid rays, | |
| The naked rocks lift high their heads in air, | |
| Dust-covered stones fling back the noon-day’s glare | |
| And strange old ruins tell of ancient days. | |
| A motley throng creeps through the narrow ways, | 5 |
| Pilgrims from far off lands whose faces bear | |
| The look that tells of by-gone toil and care, | |
| Of weary journeys and of long delays. | |
| What magic is there in this torrid clime? | |
| What fascination in these hoary walls? | 10 |
| What charm dwells here that sovereignly calls | |
| To hearts of men throughout the reach of time, | |
| Heedless of earthly gain, yet draws the soul | |
| Through want and hardship, to what mighty goal? | |
| |
| This was the ancient home of Israel; | 15 |
| Here lived our fathers fearless and free; | |
| Here lives a glory and a memory; | |
| And we His chosen ones, once more shall dwell, | |
| Majestic, jubilant, invincible, | |
| In this, our heritage; our eyes shall see | 20 |
| The long-ago that is again to be; | |
| The peace that has no ending shall dispel | |
| The dreaming and the doubt, the hopes, the fears. | |
| With love and longing we await that day | |
| Whose dawn beholds the yearning of the years | 25 |
| Fulfilled at last, and, while we waiting, pray, | |
| A newer life in Mount Moriah wakes, | |
| All over Olivet the morning breaks. | |
| |
