The Pilgrims hail the Kaaba's sacred Ground,
When they at last the holy Fane have found.
They see a House of Stone, sublime, revered,
All girt by steep and barren Cliffs around.
They march'd in Hope expecting God to see;
For this they toiled, and still their Prayers abound.
But when all fervent they the Threshold tread,
They hear a voice from out the Temple sound:
'Why pray ye thus, O Fools, to Clay and Stone?
Revere the House for which the Pure are bound.
The Heart's own House, Shrine of the True, the One:
O blest are they whose Striving there is crown'd!
Blest those who tread no Desert's weary Way,
But rest at Home in peace, like SHEMS renown'd.'
When they at last the holy Fane have found.
They see a House of Stone, sublime, revered,
All girt by steep and barren Cliffs around.
They march'd in Hope expecting God to see;
For this they toiled, and still their Prayers abound.
But when all fervent they the Threshold tread,
They hear a voice from out the Temple sound:
'Why pray ye thus, O Fools, to Clay and Stone?
Revere the House for which the Pure are bound.
The Heart's own House, Shrine of the True, the One:
O blest are they whose Striving there is crown'd!
Blest those who tread no Desert's weary Way,
But rest at Home in peace, like SHEMS renown'd.'