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I have not sung to you, my land,
And I have not glorified your name
With acts of valor,
With booty of battles;
My hands have planted just a tree
On the quiet Jordan shores,
My legs have trodden down…
God relented. And the whispered prayers of the toiler returned not empty, and the tears of the sower reached to heaven.
With great, with manifold mercy the windows of heaven were flung open, flung…
Behold I have not plowed nor have I planted,
I have not prayed for the rain.
And suddenly, see! My fields have grown
Sun-blessed grain instead of thistle.
Is it the aftergrowth of ancient produce,…
Wide, open, free lay the land,
Extending to far horizons.
The sandy red tract stretches
Far and strange and lonely,
Bordered by low wild plants
And unknown herbs
With…