Classic Poem

Not as pilgrims, not as mourners
Do we hail from Earth's four corners
To these hills and plains;
For the storm that roars and rages
Brought to us the cry of ages,
Bade us break our chains.

From the Danube and the Dneiper,
Where our People, like a leper,
Dared not raise its head;
Where the Polish Squire's " Hof " is,
Where our fathers sang " Ma-Yoffis "
For their bitter bread.

Thence we come with rod and rammer,
Plow and spade and wrench and hammer,
To build on stone and sand;
Till each waste and rock is witness
Of our will and skill and fitness
To re-shape our land.

Ours is not the God that pities,
Ours is not the God of cities,
Ours — the God of the soil;
From the Carmel and the Tabor
We proclaim the law of labor,
Love and song and toil.

Coming ages — we shall feed them
With the bread and fruit of freedom,
Not of shame and tears;
On the Carmel and the Tabor
Thus we sing and thus we labor —
We the pioneers.