WHEREFORE weep our brethren yonder, | |
| Gathered from afar and near; | |
| Wherefore, father, tell me, wherefore | |
| Are these weary pilgrims here? | |
| |
| Ah, my child, a day of mourning | 5 |
| Brings together Israel’s fold; | |
| Many of these weary pilgrims | |
| Once were warriors, strong and bold. | |
| |
| See, my child, the city yonder, | |
| That was once thy father’s home; | 10 |
| Now dishonored and forsaken, | |
| ’Tis the seat of hated Rome. | |
| |
| For we rose in strong rebellion, | |
| I, my child, and all my kin, | |
| And Judea’s long lost freedom | 15 |
| Once again we sought to win. | |
| |
| But the great decree of Heaven | |
| Was against our glorious band; | |
| And at Bethar’s bloody battle | |
| Died the noblest of the land. | 20 |
| |
| Yet the fierce and vengeful Roman, | |
| Not content with such a prize, | |
| Heeded not our women’s mourning, | |
| Heeded not our children’s cries. | |
| |
| But he cast them from their country, | 25 |
| From their own and native soil; | |
| Sold them into dreadful bondage, | |
| To a life of hated toil. | |
| |
| Then defiled the sacred places | |
| With a ruthless hand and bold; | 30 |
| And the heathen dwells unpunished | |
| Where the priesthood dwelt of old. | |
| |
| They have changed the walks of Zion, | |
| Even changed her sacred name; | |
| They have reared a heathen temple | 35 |
| On the ruins of our fame. | |
| |
| And to fill the cup of sorrow, | |
| And to fill it to the brim, | |
| Hadrian hurled his mighty fiat | |
| With a purpose stern and grim, | 40 |
| |
| That within yon sacred portals | |
| Israel’s foot may never tread, | |
| Though beneath that soil lie buried | |
| All the dearest of our dead. | |
| |
| Bitter, child, are all the tortures | 45 |
| Of a cruel, heartless foe; | |
| Yet a life of hopeless exile | |
| Is by far the greatest woe. | |
| |
| Here upon the Mount of Olives, | |
| Once a year, we still may meet, | 50 |
| Where the city of our fathers | |
| May our tearful vision greet. | |
| |
| So we gather from the mountains | |
| And we gather from the plain; | |
| Here, amid her desolation, | 55 |
| We behold her once again. | |
| |
| Till the sturdy sons of Judah | |
| Break the Roman’s haughty pride, | |
| Never shall I cease my mourning | |
| Never shall my tears be dried. | 60 |
| |
| For I trust, the Lord in heaven, | |
| Mindful of his chosen gem, | |
| Will some day restore to glory | |
| Israel and Jerusalem. | |
| |
