The Appointed Place Poem by Winifred Emma May

Our identity is veiled for those who cannot see - the truth behind the legends. They have lost the vital key - of prophecy - fulfilled when came the holocaust of wars - and European powers beat iron-fisted at our doors.

We are not of Europe. We, the Anglo-Saxon breed - have grown from Jacob's seed - and travelled through the centuries to 'the appointed place' - destined to become the royal cradle of our race.

Here we have been planted, spreading boughs across the sea - for we are the children of the Lord of history ... Read the Word most marvellous and by its lantern trace - the story of our pilgrimage to the appointed place.

Westwards from Canaan to Scythia and westwards thence to the God-blessed Isles of the West - later to send sons and daughters to establish new nations in all the continents.