The High Priest

Draw near, ye people! Hear and understand!

Why will ye waste your strength on barren soil?

Lo, we will lead you to a pleasant land

Flowing with milk and honey, corn and oil-

Out of this land of bondage and of toil.

Lift your despairing eyes and see! Behold,

This is the city of our hope! In her

The streets are paved with finer stuff than gold

Of Ophir; and her fragrant gardens bear

Spices more sweet than frankincense and myrrh.

This is the garden of the Thinker-here

In burnished metal blooms his secret thought.

Orchid and cactus side by side appear;

Lotos and prickly thistle deftly wrought

" And all their esoteric meaning caught.

Surely the Master of this house is good!

Surely the Golden Age is come again!

Does he not furnish shelter, clothing, food?

A thousand comforts follow in his train,

Solace for grief and anodyne for pain.