These lush and gentle hills
Cry out – how long?
How long till our Messiah comes
And God’s Word triumphs over all?
Our world is awry.
The ignoble Herod rules as Caesar’s puppet,
Anchoring the hated Roman yoke.
In these 60 years since Rome enslaved us
Men have risen – calling themselves messiahs –
And have been cruelly crushed.
Thieves and terrorists infest our hills.
Zealots carry daggers beneath their cloaks.
Tax collectors harass the poor unceasingly
While Herod spends his hollow hours in wanton splendor.
Even now, Caesar has decreed that all the world should be taxed,
Each unto his own city.
Scorned by haughty Jerusalem,
Yet whose fruitful land and shimmering sea
Eclipses stark Judea.
We are a simple people who wait in suffering and hope
For our Anointed One.
He shall be of David’s house: Isaiah has proclaimed it.
In Bethlehem He shall be born, so Micah said.
His will be a reign of peace and joy and justice –
For Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Zechariah have foretold it.
Surely God will not forget His humble Galilee
When the Messiah comes.
Perhaps His holy feet will walk on these green hills
And bless them for all time.