In the mids of Gardens and Vineyards,
and green slops studded with pilgrims tent,
Rose the terraced hills, as lovely then, and
deeming as secure in Heaven's favor.
Beautiful for situation, the Joy of the whole earth.
In full view were the magnificent buildings of the temple.
The rays of the setting sun lightend up
The Snowy whiteness of it marble walls
and gleamed from golden gate.
The perfection of beauty it stood,
The pride of the Nation.
What Child could gaze upon the scene
Without a trill of Joy and admiration!
But fear other thoughts occupied the mind of Jesus.
When he come near, He beheld the City, and wept over it.
His tears were not for himself, though He well knew
Whither his feet were tending.
28.December 2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful imagery.-shannon