A Song of Zion

(Dedicated to the Zionist Society of Montreal)

WE are coming, coming, coming. Fling our banner to the breeze.

In thousands we are coming from beyond remotest seas.

We are coming after centuries of sorrow and of toil,

To make our home in Palestine and tread its holy soil.

O, let the song of gladness rise; let all the nations hear

The anthem of a mighty host of Zion drawing near,

Across the mountains, through the vales, and o’er the ocean’s foam,

Behold the hosts of Israel are coming, coming home!

’Twas said of old by one whose lips were touched by Heaven’s fire,

That God’s own house would be built up, than hills and mountains higher;

That from its portals would go forth to all the world the word,

That may we learn His ways, and walk in truth before the Lord;

That Sword and Spear would broken be, and turned to arts of peace;

That all the panoply of war and strife forever cease;

That nation shall not lift up sword against nation, as of yore,

But listen to the voice of God and learn of war no more.

O, Children of the Covenant, perhaps the day is near,—

E’en now, if you will listen, you may hear the accents clear

Of One who calls the scattered brood—come to Me! children, Come!

My hills are vacant. Here I am. I bid you welcome home!

Then answer—we are coming! Fling our banner to the breeze!

In thousands we are coming from beyond remotest seas.

We are coming after centuries of sorrow and of toil

To make our home in Palestine and tread its holy soil.

O, let the songs of gladness rise, let all the nations hear

The anthem of the mighty host of Israel drawing near;

Across the mountains, through the vales, and o’er the ocean’s foam,

Behold the hosts of Israel are coming, coming home!