88
SONGS OF EXILE
They cast thee out as one despised, and burn
The wealth of God Most High;
They whom from thine assembly thou wouldst spurn
From drawing nigh.
I cannot pass along the highway more,
Nor seek thy ways forlorn;
How do thy paths their loneliness deplore!
Lo! how they mourn!
The mingled cup shall taste as honey sweet
Where tears o'erbrim the wine;
Yea, and thy chains upon my shackled feet
Are joy divine.
Sweet would it be unto mine eyes alway
A rain of tears to pour,
To sob and drench thy sacred robes, till they
Could hold no more.
