He will have the beauty of the olive.
And the fragrance of Lebanon.
From an ancient gnarled tree his soothing oil we ask him to give.
And receive in holy reunion.

From war torn years the past in memory whistles.
I recall a mad dash down the mountain to Beirut.
Brake lights not used for fear of missiles.
Hope of peace in that car was mute.

But let us recall the majesty of Cedrus Libani.
Begonia, poppies, jasmine, gladiolus, and orange flowers.
Stretching out to calm the sight in warm litany.
And the green Cyprus’s beauty light scatters.

Come back to the Lord your God is the call to Israel.
And to us through every trial.