There had been silence for three hundred years.
The ancient ones had said Messias soon would come.
The folk awaited, filled with hopes and fears,
The advent of the longed-for Christ, the promised one.
The people suffered, yet through all their tears
In simple trust they knew God's promise would be done.
The temple, resting on the holy mount,
And on the people's holy faith, lay still.
The silent worshipers, beyond all count—
Around the crown of that most sacred hill,
The great Jehovah's holy place, the fount
Of all their nation's life and strength—were still.
Before the altar and the holy place
The aged Zacharias stood
To offer penance for the Hebrew race
With lamb and sacrificial blood.
With light of consecration on his face,
He gave to God the best he could.
