Classic Poem

On the hill so high
Stands an ancient wall
Seared and black and tall:
Many cracks are seen upon it,
Sprouting bushes green upon it:
Firm its stand withal.

By that ancient wall
Ancient folk appears,
Bowed with prayers and tears,
Seek from woe relief before it,
Pouring forth their grief before it
Now two thousand years.

But from Heaven above
Flowing 'round that wall
Silver rays enthrall,
Healing shafts with splendor beaming,
Comfortingly fall.