Scattered by God's avenging hand,
Afflicted and forlorn,
Sad wanderers from their pleasant land,
Do Judah's children mourn.
And even in Christian countries,
few breathe thoughts of pity
for the Jew.
Yet, listen, gentile, do you love the bible's precious page?
Then let your heart with kindness move,
To Israel's heritage.
Who traced those lines of love for you?
Each sacred writer was a Jew.
And then as years and ages passed,
And nations rose and fell,
Though clouds of darkness often were cast,
Over captive Israel.
The oracles of God for you,
Were kept in safety by the Jew.
And when the great Messiah came,
For guilty man to bleed,
He did not take an angel's name,
No - born of Abraham's seed,
Y'shua Jesus who gave His life for you,
The gentle Saviour was a Jew.
And though His own received Him not,
And turned in pride away,
Whence is the Gentile's happier lot?
Are you more just than they?
No; God in pity turned to you,
Have you no
pity for the Jew?
Go then, and bend the knee to pray,
For Israel's ancient race,
Ask the dear Saviour every day,
To call them by His grace.
Go, for a debt of love is due,
From Christian Gentiles to the Jew.