I have stood here in the wasteland
with the Red Sea at my back,
and the army that had chased me 
was a ripple in the wrack.

I have walked here as a pilgrim,
held your wisdom ever dear,
sought your face across the distance—
I have wandered forty years.

There's no highway through this desert
and no river in these sands.
I am lost where winds are endless,
looking for a promised land.

But you've said a day is coming
when the highway will appear,
when the river will come running—
O my God, let it draw near!

Lay a level road before me
as you laid one through the sea.
Turn the desert into orchards;
let the famished come and eat.

Until then, O God, I wander
waiting for the feast to come.
Part the sands as you did water:
Lead the weary exile home.

An inferior mirage seen in the Mojave Desert in a Nevada spring By Brocken Inaglory – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10842357