Which Way is Jerusalem from Here?

The last goodbyes stuck to my tongue;
from silent eyes my tears were wrung.
My bitter cries and curses hung
beyond a silent barrier of fear.
Now damn these men who curse me for a fool,
a charlatan, or worse: some devil's tool!
A hidden face, a holy place,
returning to the light of grace,
the path at last appears before me clear.
Which way is Jerusalem from here?

All faith is lost, our hope is gone;
we followed blindly stars that shone
above three travellers lost upon
that desert standing silent, cold and sere.
Now, who are you, pretender to the throne
that Caesar swears is no one's but his own?
The marriage bed, the tomb of lead,
the cross on which your saviour bled
made no one pause, nor shed a single tear.
Which way is Jerusalem from here?

I'll celebrate no holidays
with Yuletide fires all ablaze;
I'll offer toasts to no one's praise,
nor raise the chilling cup of Christmas cheer,
and NO! There is no other God than He
whose Will is manifest in all we see;
but would I claim that holy Name,
or would I want to take the blame
were mine the hand that made these worlds appear?
Which way is Jerusalem from here?