S H A L O M E
"Jerusalem, the Holy City, would again be in the midst of her ancient owners, though open on free and equal terms to each of the two other great religions that have for centuries contended for it."
—The New York Times, December 29th, 1912.
The fields are vile with crimson, The crash of war is loud With greed and hate the learned great Before their Lord are proud Jerusalem is mourning, Her patient stones are dumb; Her watchers wait on wall and gate Until her sons shall come.
Throw wide her courts to freedom,Make clean her streets for peace,That East and West within her breastTheir wrangling lusts may cease.On foot and steed and camelAs Turk and Christian roam,The prophet's ass they meet, and passThe greeting word "Shalome."
Acquainted long with sorrows,He comes from every land,A man akin to tears and sin,Whose heart can understand.He comes to keep his SabbathsWhere nations buy and sell,And East and West shall find their restBeside his bounteous well.