I.O.B.B. POEM: 47TH ANNIVERSARY by MIRIAM DEL BANCO

The perfume of numberless roses,
The music afloat o'er the throng,
The accent of love that discloses
A blessing disguised as a song,—
They swell like the tides of the ocean,
Whose silvery chant never ends;
They bless, with unceasing devotion,
Our Order,—its founders and friends.

Hail, brave pioneers! ye who scattered
The gloom by intolerance cast;
The weapons of prejudice shattered,
And conquered, in glory, at last.
Your lives, with their noble endeavor,
Were weapons of valor and worth,
That gained the great battle forever,—
That gave toleration its birth.

And nobly ye fought for the others
Who fled from oppression's dark reign;
Your helpless and ignorant brothers
Ne'er sought your assistance in vain;
From sadness and sorrow you brought them
Across the wild depths of the sea,
And faith in humanity taught them,
And love for this "land of the free."

Aye, here in this home of all nations,
Those builders so earnestly strove
To lay the enduring foundations
Of brotherly friendship and love;
To kindle the golden Menorah;
To flood, with the light of its ray,
Art, science, invention—the Torah
Man seeks to interpret to-day;

To aid the poor brother,—uplift him
In sentiment, manner and speech,
With kindness and courtesy gift him,
And culture's nobility teach;
His heart ever soften to sorrow,
His hand ever open to need,
His friendship unchanged through the morrow,—
Unfettered by station or creed.

And nobly they planned; for the saddened,
The suffering, sick and oppressed
Are comforted, aided and gladdened,
With counsel and sympathy blessed;
The bedside of sickness is brightened,
A home for the aged supplied,
The heart of the widow is lightened,
The tears of the orphan are dried.

Of those whose unselfish endeavor
Was thus with prosperity blessed,
How many have left us forever,—
Have gone to their infinite rest!
O countless, invisible Order,
Transfigured in radiant light,
Come back from the spirit-land border,
To look down and bless us to-night!

And ye who are spared to the living,—
Ye silv'ry-haired chiefs of the throng,—
We hail you with words of thanksgiving!
We crown you with flowers and song!
Long, long may your lives, like a blessing,
Shine brightly the Order above,
To man the sweet story expressing
Of brotherly friendship and love.

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