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Poem	Well-nigh two thousand years hath Israel Suffered the scorn of man for love of God; Endured the outlaw's ban, the yoke, the rod, With perfect patience. Empires rose and fell, Around him Nebo was adored and Bel; Edom was drunk with victory, and trod On his high places, while the sacred sod Was desecrated by the infidel. His faith proved steadfast, without breach or flaw, But now the last renouncement is required. His truth prevails, his God is God, his Law Is found the wisdom most to be desired. Not his the glory! He, maligned, misknown, Bows his meek head, and says, "Thy will be done!"
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