The missionaries left the Holy Land
And came back some hundred years after that
On Resurrection Sunday.
In those seven hundred years the zeal had cooled
And people had forgotten You, Lord.
Dusty and tired and poor,
No longer citizens of our land,
But nomads for 700 years
Preaching til the deserts were meadows.
Then they returned to the empty wadis of home.
They made us feel ashamed, Lord,
Because it used to be us who knew.
They left to speak the word.
They returned to spread what we once knew.