Patience Strong is one of Britain's most famous poets. Her monthly poems may be found on an Anglican site at http://archbishops.org/january.htm What most do not know or care to know, is that she is actually an advocate of British-Israelism. In her book, Someone had to say it, she dedicated the book to Harold Stough, a prominent British-Israel  teacher: "Dedicated with gratitude to Harold Stough at whose never-to-be forgotten lecture at Orpington Village Hall, Kent, in 1940 I first heard the life-changing message of Christian-Israelism". In chapter 21 she openly extols the British-Israel truth.

Her obituary is attached (PDF). We think that the press got it wrong and that she was not born a Cushing. But her second husband was named Cushing. There is also a recent magazine (PDF) article for your reading pleasure.

Following are two famous poems by her for your reading pleasure.


A group of islands, loved and lovely, first a colony -

    Strung out like a necklace flung across the southern seas -

Now a beautiful Dominion, God's own gift to us -

    A jewel in the Israel crown, a pearl most marvellous

Rich in churches, farms and cities; pastures, cattle, sheep -

    where this people British-bred their ancient laws may keep.


First of Britain's family to come to Britain's aid -

    In two great world-wide wars - the memory shall not fade -

From the Mother heart that beats in London's sanctuary.

    Across the world we hail New Zealand - one of our company.

                     THIS ONE THING

Westward sailed the Mayflower pilgrims to a better law -

    Where in freedom they might live - as Puritans to stand -

For liberty of mind and soul, prepared to sacrifice

    - all they had for this one thing: the pearl beyond all price ...


Thus did they fulfill the Jacobean prophecy -

    That the sons of Joseph in the course of time should be -

Two great nations working out God's plan from age to age:

    Ephraim and Manasseh, heirs to Israel's heritage.


Our Anglo-Saxon ancestry - the bond of blood we share -

    Is this secret and the strength of this our common prayer:

Forgive us our iniquities as we in patience -

    Ask a blessing for ourselves and our inheritance.


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.


I stopped to call a taxi in the heart of Babylon.

At the pavementís edge I stood - the traffic writhing on

Leftward to the Whitehall turning like a lustrous snake

Or rightward to Westminster Bridge, the southbound road to take,


There to pass proud Boadicea set towards the tower

Where Big Ben in his solemn grandeur booms the passing hour

As if to warn the seething crowds that Time brooks no de!ay

As he sifts the minutes of the unforgiving day.


While I across the street looked out towards the Abbey wall -

Afloat behind a spray of limpid light that seemed to fall

Veiling the secret features of the Abbeyís ancient face

That houses Jacobís Bethel stone in its appointed place...

Where Israelís holy treasure lies for every eye to see:

Safe in our keeping. This, the very Stone of Destiny.  


The taxi came. Again we plunged into the turgid stream -

And glancing back, the Abbey seemed remote as in a dream.

Sculptured in its frozen calm it stood apart, alone,

Sharing with God the hidden knowledge of the sleeping stone.