THE STAR

They were a people who for forty yearsPitched their great tents against the burning dark,Drank from the brook at Eshcol, and shed tearsUpon the meads of Ain and saw the arkBorne before Moses. What Truth led them onWe only, who have tasted it, can say.Evening still falls on Bethlehem, and dawnStill breaks on lowly Nazareth today.

Moab and Hamath were abundant landUnto the chosen, and the fields were sweetWith figs and honey, and on every handThe promise beckoned. Against rain and heatWe too must journey from Hazar-addar,Led like the Magi by a holy star.

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Editorial
THE STAR AND THE SCEPTER
December 25, 1948
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