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 strayAnd 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 strown 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 birdOf 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 clearSound peace upon His Hill.