From the Syrian Heights
by Leopold Cann
to the Dead sea depths
Soldiers and Pilgrims are praying
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,
May my right hand forget her cunning
How I love this Land with its golden sands
And the sweep of the Carmel range,
But my heart loves best my father's quest
Jerusalem above the plain.
Her hills sparkle in the sunshine.
My heart overflows with joy.
Peace and goodwill to all people
with a blessing
Roses bloom and blend
their perfume soft caressing
Turn my deserts into vineyards
Let my mercy fall like rain.
Build my Temple, build my Temple
high, Oh Zion,
For this land is Mine,
For this land is Mine.