I tread in the paths where the patriarchs trod
I visit the haunts of the prophets of God-
Where the feet of bright-angels have hallowed the sod.

I enter thy portals, O Salem renowned!
I walk about Zion, with towers once crowned;
Look down on Messiah, the Temple’s fair ground.

I go where the Saviour, by mountain and shore,
With the twelve he had chosen, oft journeyed before,
Relieved the soul hearted and preached to the poor.

I gaze on the objects that He had surveyed:
I trace His dear steps to Gethsemane’s shade;
I weep where He wept, and pray where He prayed.

I stand by the Hall where false judgement was given
I go to the hills where the Cross-mails were driven;
I enter the Tomb of the Loved One of Heaven.

I pass over the Piedron to Olivet nigh,
Where Bethany nestles so sweet ‘neath the eye,
Where the Glorious Redeemer ascended on high.

O Land of the holiest memories, adieu!
My wonderings in thee I shall often renew;
They beautiful landscapes are ever in view.

O desolate Land! ‘neath a blight to remain,
Till thy children, long scattered, are gathered again,
And thy King, once rejected shall over thee reign.