The Promised Land

O LITTLE Land of lapping seas,

Of vineyards, vales and hills;

Of tender rains and rainbow plains,

Of deserts and of rills;

O little Land of mounting crags,

Of lonely height and deep;

A world away thy children stray

And long and wait and weep.

REFRAIN

From Egypt’s flesh-pots, Lord of wrath,

With mighty outstretched hand,

Through seas and mountains cleave our path;

Oh! Lord, redeem our land!

I know the golden oranges

Englobed beneath the moon,

The sky that spills ’twixt seas and hills

Its shining draught of noon;

The vines that bind our holy hills

With grapes like jewels set;

The silver green of olive sheen

Oh, can my soul forget?

O little Land of holy men

Of fearless dream and deed;

From clime to clime the storms of time

Have strewn thy hardy seed,

And fearless still and holy still,

We sang through hate and shame;

With faith we fought, with deed and thought

And God’s enduring name.

My heart is singing like a bird

Of home that still may be,

And joys I dared to leave, and spared,

Hold out their arms to me.

We cannot sleep in cushioned ease

Nor yield to martial will,

But we must hear God’s trumpet clear

Sound peace upon His Hill.