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Franschhoek
Franschhoek Thomas Pringle To this far nook the Christian exiles fled, Each fettering tie of earthly texture breaking; Wealth, country, kindred, cheerfully forsaking, For that good cause in which their fathers bled. By Faith supported and by Freedom led, A fruitful field amidst the desert making, They dwelt secure when kings and priests were quaking, And taught the waste to yield them wine and bread. And is their worth forgot? their spirit gone? Now, in the breach of wickedness forth-breaking, At the lone watchman's warning call awaking, To lift the faithful standard is there none? Yes — still 'mong the dry bones there is a shaking, And a faint glimmering still where former lustre shone.
Franschhoek Thomas Pringle To this distant place, the Christian exiles escaped, Breaking every binding connection to the earthly world; Willingly leaving behind wealth, homeland, and family, For the noble cause for which their ancestors fought. Supported by Faith and guided by Freedom, They created a fertile area in the midst of the desert, They lived safely while kings and priests were in fear, And taught the barren land to provide them with wine and bread. Is their value forgotten? Has their spirit vanished? Now, as wickedness breaks forth, Awakening at the lone watchman's warning call, Is there no one to raise the faithful standard? Yes — among the dry bones, there is still movement, And a faint glimmer still shines where it once sparkled.