That I might sift the sheltered sands, and gather out the gold;
Strewn by the mystic hand of him, back in the days of old.
Through the hills and upon the desert, as a mighty obelisk stands,
We gather out the wreaths of beauty, cast for the life of man.
The hosts stand in the distance, to observe the things that we do.
As our ridged furrows in the gray light come trailing through.
As I wrought with my comrades, I saw some jewels glitter in the sands;
Ling'ring in the dust of time, to be brought within demand.
The soul is always waiting, and the heart is always true;
Where the workmen seek to gather, from the dust beneath the azure lights of blue.
A High Praise
We are marching toward that city, in the great trend of mind. We see our friends gathering from over the ranges, stepping by the hours of time. We are ascending the heights from the rivers, Lord plant our feet in thy Zion.
In the spirit in which we are calling, so shall the answer be. Each deed and day shall be answered, as our souls cry to thee. We are moving in the light of your spirit; Lord, plant our feet in thy Zion.
Lord, let us pay for our ways, in the days of our time. For unto life we shall gather from over the ranges, proven by the powers of mind. Let us ascend the heights from the rivers; Lord, plant our feet in thy Zion.