The sun had set on Palestine’s land,
And crescent moon awhile the vigil kept;
As by her light, ere Jaffa’s inmates slept,
The travelers, a feeble little band,
Through Jaffa’s gardens started on their way.
Horse, mule and ass at roadside fountain drink,
Then on the Ramleh road they keep their way;
Ere Ramleh’s reached, the moon, of feeble ray,
Behind the western clouds cloth also sink,
And air in coolness, night in darkness grows.
Thus mile succeeds on mile, and hour on hour,
Till Ramleh’s walls and towers are for behind;
Then thirst inspires the strong desire to find,
Or well, or fountain, or a prickly pear;
But none there are, or darkness them conceals.
“When shall we quench our thirst?”
“The muleteer is searching with a keen and practiced eye.”
The hope deferred, heart saddening reply,
Again and yet again falls on the ear;
And thirst increasing is, and failing hope.
But now amidst the deepest gloom of night,
Eleven becomes the little band of four;
Of Ramoth Gilead the governor,
And Nablus Mufti with their turbans white,
And horsemen five their company unite.
Salutes exchanged, and free inquiries made,
“Whence do you come, and whither are you bound?”
The thirsty hear the soul-refreshing sound:
“Would you drink water?” Soon their thirst’s allayed.
From leathern bottle to the girdle joined.
So let the Christian with the Arab vie,
As this with earthly, that with heavenly store,
To fellow travelers to th’ eternal shore,
Extend the draft; who drinks shall never die;
And point to CHRIST, THE Savior OF THE WORLD.