[headline]by Naheed Naseem[/headline]
O Uncrowned king of Yathrib!
That walked the native land,
The marks of thy footsteps remain,
Yet ‘pon the desert sand.
Whilst yet a child did Bahira foresaw
A glorious destiny was Thine,
And thou grew up faithful to thy call,
That has been proved by Time.
The throne was there yet e’er Thou sat
Next to the beggar orphan,
For love that Allah bore to thee,
Was a love thou bore to man.
And thy companions bore to thee,
A devotion unparalleled
They fought for thee, through joy and pain,
And kept their vigilance.
Thou bore scorn with a gallant heart,
There n’er was one like Thee.
More blessed among prophets,
More beloved among men,
N’er more the world shall see.
The breeze of Arabia carries yet,
The scent of thy honest breath
The palms still sway and wisper yet,
Thy name to consecrate.