The Pilgrims

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.'