On the Way to Jerusalem (rhymed version)

Beautiful height! O joy! the whole world’s gladness!
O great King’s city, mountain blest!
My soul is yearning unto thee—is yearning
From limits of the west.
The torrents heave from depths of mine heart's passion,
At memory of thine olden state,
The glory of thee borne away to exile,
Thy dwelling desolate.
And who shall grant me, on the wings of eagles,
To rise and seek thee through the years,
Until I mingle with thy dust beloved,
The waters of my tears?
I seek thee, though thy King be no more in thee,
Though where the balm hath been of old—
Thy Gilead's balm—be poisonous adders lurking,
Winged scorpions manifold.
Shall I not to thy very stones be tender?
Shall I not kiss them verily?
Shall not thine earth upon my lips taste sweeter
Than honey unto me?