Down by the shining sea
Its swelling waves in sight —
A bare unvarnished hall,
A handful of plain men,
A carpenter, a smith,
A vendor of old clothes —
It was that day of days,
The birthday of the Law .
Without, the working world
Its daily tasks did fill;
I stood within and heard
And watched the passing scene.

An altar rude of wood,
Stood plainly fashioned forth,
But pious hands, had placed
A silken curtain there,
And 'neath its heavy folds
In 'broidered velvet wound,
And hung with silver chains,
There stood the Sacred Law .

The parchment scroll of old,
With its strange Hebrew script.
The sunlight clear and strong
That through the window shone,
Like the Shekinah old,
Looked just a sacred fire
That burned about the ark,
And seemed to write God's name.
A man of humble mien,
And humbler still in garb,
Stood forth and said the prayers,
And read the scrolled Law ;
Though poor and mean he was,
Yet great and grand he seemed,
All garmented and robed
In a strange majesty;
The ancient praying-shawl
About his shoulders wrapt,
And on his brow the look
Of very priest of God —
And presently there rose
The people reverently,
And stood with heads all bowed,
While in a tone of awe,
And in its ancient tongue,
The Decalogue was read,
Then solemnly " Amen "
Was said, as said of old.
While candles slim and white
Burned bright on either side,
And two most reverend men
A guard of honor stood.

The mean hall fell away —
The people disappeared —
The sounds all hushed and died;
But round about me closed
The sunlight shining full
Like spirit of the Lord.
I saw the lightning's flash,
I heard the thunder roll;
The strange, lone mountain peak
In Eastern desert sand
Rose plain before my eyes;
I felt the heaving earth
About Mount Sinai's foot,
While trembling slaves made free
Stood ready to be men,
And vowed their sacred oath
To take the righteous Law;
To teach it to all men,
Through ages that might roll.

Then like a vision rose
The weary pilgrimage
O'er every sea and land.
Of that God-chosen race,
The Law within its hands,
Its spirit in its soul;
I saw deep, bloody streams,
High-leaping tongues of flame;
I saw the rack and scourge,
Heard scornful tongues of men,
But still the tramping march,
Did sound full in my ear,
And quivering with pain,
I saw them onward bear
Through hate, and scorn, and hurt,
With love and pride that Law.

Upon that vision then
There dawned another still;
I saw a multitude
As vast as stars of heaven,
That rose, and swelled, and died,
And died and rose again,
That reached from sea to sea,
And spread throughout all lands;
I saw great kings arise,
And reverend sages stand,
The lettered and unlearned,
The rulers and the ruled,
All stretching out their hands
With eager looks and tone,
To take from that scourged race,

The Law they claimed their own;
Saw kingdoms rise and live,
Empires grow great and strong,
Republics fling their flags
To free winds glad embrace,
All builded on that scroll,
All founded on that Law.
And so this poor mean room
That held me in a spell,
Swelled to a grandeur vast,
A temple great and rich,
With altar of pure gold,
That held a jewel rare
And single in its worth.
The men before me seemed
To grow in statured height,
To put on air and mien
Of greatness and of power,
Attendants on a Lord,
Who owned the Jewel there —
Who felt and knew that they
Were guardians safe and true,
With privilege to bear
The Treasure of the Lord.