The nation scourged, dispersed through every land,
For many ages, wanderers without home,
In me waits patiently the guiding hand
Will lead its pilgrims back no more to roam.
My third.
The mother standing at the judgment seat,
When wisdom’s voice to death her babe did give,
Resigned to me her claim—willing to meet
Her loss, so that her precious child might live.
Through me the tongue of slander lulls its voice,
Through me the poor have full provision given;
I lift the fallen one, bid hearts rejoice;
I bid the poor of earth seek wealth in heaven.
My whole.
A jeweled diadem of priceless worth,
I quench the luster of all crowns on earth.
[24]
My first in gardens oft is seen,
And oft adorns the bride;
In early spring its leaves are green—
It is the maiden’s pride.
My second thou repeatest
Full oft in fireside games:
As sweet, if not the sweetest,
Of all familiar names.
A flow’ring shrub, in a distant clime,
My whole in beauty grows;
It grew by the sea in olden time,
And thus its name arose.