I’ll ne’er forget my exultation
When I left my home-born nation,
Crossed the arid desert wide,
Laid my sack at riverside

We had prayed, Oh Lord, deliver
All your folk from slavery; River
Water, we hoped, would expunge
Our sins, so in we lunged.

Oh that bitter, chilly flow!
What would come? We didn’t know!
We hoped we could understand
What we’d see in th’Holy Land.

True, we all felt some bright change
Come upon us; but, how strange!
Signs and symbols, stands and tourists!
Why, Lord? We were once the purest.

(please see the sequel for part 2)