The Lost Tribes

We read about the tribes dispersed, That Israelitish host, Condemned and exiled, sin-accursed, Among the Gentiles lost, We wonder what strange paths they walk, In what far land they dwell, Where now does Reuben feed his flock, And Joseph buy and sell?

In search of them we vainly roam Through distant, foreign states, Then find a people nearer home With all the Hebrew traits. They seize the heathen nations' land, And hold it by the sword, And deem themselves a righteous band. The chosen of the Lord.

They deem themselves a righteous band, And for religion's sake They bravely compass sea and land One proselyte to make. They drive poor Hagar from their homes The wilderness to search, While Abraham, forsooth, becomes A pillar in the church.

They scorn their dreaming brother's right To visions he may have, And to the warring Ishmaelite They sell him as a slave. Unmoved they hear the cry of pain, Old Jacob's wailing note, "An evil beast my son has slain, There's blood on Joseph's coat."

When wearied on the desert track, With hunger faint and weak, Egyptian flesh pots lure them back, The garlic and the leek. The fruitful promised land they view, But fear to enter in. And wander still, a faithless crew, The Wilderness of Sin.

Their enemies before them flee. Their foemen's gates they hold, But Esau's birthright still we see To crafty Jacob sold. They worship Aaron's golden calf, But scorn his priestly rod, And when from Marah's springs they quaff, They murmur against God.

Though David's sceptre still remains With Judah's royal line, On Leah's sons are bloody stains, And Ephriam's drunk with wine; Blind Sampson, by Delilah's shears, Is made grind Dagon's corn, But only in a thousand years Is there a Moses born.