Classic Poem

Among the tribes, the weary tribes, we wander;
The way is long, complainings fill the air;
With God so near, we fear the kings of Edom,
By smitten rocks we yield us to despair.
The seas gape wide and make for us a pathway,
We hear the cry of Pharaoh's drowning host,
But mists roll up, there's discord and confusion,
And far away is Canaan's peaceful coast.

Then do we see that walking close beside us,
With steady step, and eyes that onward look,
Are those who went before us to that country,
And brought us grapes from Eschol's wondrous brook;
Their faces shine, their lips are always singing,
The winds of Canaan have their foreheads fanned,
Alike to them are sunrise and sunsetting,
Their feet make haste, they have beheld the land!

O thanks and thanks, a thousand times repeated!
We know your names, ye valiant, faithful few;
Your lowest words are sweet as Heavenly music,
Ye searched the land out better than ye knew.
When through the camp there rings a cry for “Egypt,”
And all our tribes sway backward in despair,
We turn to you who bear the purple clusters,
For still ye say “Surely the land is fair.”

We pray you, friends, walk closer still beside us;
Talk to us often of the way ye took,
When ye beheld the citrons and pomegranate,
And plucked the grapes that grew by Eschol's brook.
If doubts, like evil birds, fly on before us,
And clouds obscure the path that must be trod,
Speak low to us of Sinai and its thunder,
Repeat the name of Israel's mighty God.

Among the tribes, the weary tribes, we wander;
The way is long, complainings fill the air;
With God so near, we fear the kings of Edom,
By smitten rocks we yield us to despair.
The seas gape wide and make for us a pathway,
We hear the cry of Pharaoh's drowning host,
But mists roll up, there's discord and confusion,
And far away is Canaan's peaceful coast.

Then do we see that walking close beside us,
With steady step, and eyes that onward look,
Are those who went before us to that country,
And brought us grapes from Eschol's wondrous brook;
Their faces shine, their lips are always singing,
The winds of Canaan have their foreheads fanned,
Alike to them are sunrise and sunsetting,
Their feet make haste, they have beheld the land!

O thanks and thanks, a thousand times repeated!
We know your names, ye valiant, faithful few;
Your lowest words are sweet as Heavenly music,
Ye searched the land out better than ye knew.
When through the camp there rings a cry for “Egypt,”
And all our tribes sway backward in despair,
We turn to you who bear the purple clusters,
For still ye say “Surely the land is fair.”

We pray you, friends, walk closer still beside us;
Talk to us often of the way ye took,
When ye beheld the citrons and pomegranate,
And plucked the grapes that grew by Eschol's brook.
If doubts, like evil birds, fly on before us,
And clouds obscure the path that must be trod,
Speak low to us of Sinai and its thunder,
Repeat the name of Israel's mighty God.