The Forgotten Anthem

There is nothing like one’s home – A haven which flows with milk and honey, A home built by hands from holy heaven Which we bought not with money But with obedience which was no burden. We have become strangers in a foreign land Because of our sin and perversion. Give us a second chance in that lovely land To create, O Creator, the first impression. Just a glimpse of home would make us less forlorn. O Albatross, lead us to the East From where we were hauled to this lawn Where even red wine and bread made with yeast Make our hearts sad, yes, forlorn.