People of Zion

FROM far-off ages hath this people sprung,

To Yahweh clinging still, as they have clung

The centuries through. Tenacity of mind

In every generation—well defined—

And purposes unshaken, are the fruit

Of worship such as theirs. They pay no suit

To king or prince for favors. Like a rock

That’s beaten by the waves they stand the shock

Of prejudice, that, never ceasing, rolls

And rushes all around them. And their souls

Within their temples cluster, drawing near

The altar that has ever been so dear

To Israel; and Israel’s mighty God

Seems here to speak the plainer. From the rod

Of gentile hatred here they turn to pray,

For this to them seems the most righteous way.

While we, whose minds in every season turn

To seek or find some “New Religion,” learn

To look upon the Israelitish men

With reverence for their steadfast worship. When

The “candles” we have lighted waver so

That we are lost in “ists” and “isms,” lo!

We see their great lamp burning still and bright;

A long white pathway shining on the night!