The Captives’ Hymn Posted on May 3, 2013 by robpectwnet The Captives’ Hymn was composed by Margaret Dryburgh in the Palembang ‘houses’ camp in 1942 and first sung by herself, Shelagh Brown and Dorothy MacLeod at a Sunday service. Thereafter the hymn was sung by the women every Sunday even throughout their later years in captivity when they encountered suffering and death all around them. When, in 1943, some internees were repatriated from Palembang to Singapore, the hymn was taken with them and, as a result, it found fame in camps there too. captiveshymn-700 Norah Chambers transcription of the The Captives’ Hymn, dictated to her by Margaret Dryburgh Father in captivity We would lift our prayers to Thee, Keep us ever in Thy Love. Grant that daily we may prove Those who place their trust in Thee More than conquerors may be Give us patience to endure Keep our hearts serene and pure, Grant us courage, charity, Greater faith, humility, Readiness to own Thy Will, Be we free or captive still For our country we would pray In this hour be Thou her stay. Pride and selfishness forgive, Teach her, by Thy Laws, to live, By Thy Grace may all men see, That true greatness comes from Thee. For our loved ones we would pray Be their guardians, night and day, From all dangers, keep them free, Banish all anxiety. May they trust us to Thy care, Know that Thou our pains dost share. May the day of freedom dawn Peace and justice be reborn, Grant that nations loving Thee O’er the world may brothers be, Cleansed by suffering, know rebirth, See Thy Kingdom come on earth. When the survivors of the Sumatran camps were reunited by researcher Lavinia Warner for Margot Turner’s This Is Your Life in 1978, it was their singing of The Captives’ Hymn which inspired her to explore the story of their captivity further. tiyl The reunited internees sing The Captives’ Hymn on Dame Margot Turner’s This Is Your Life in 1978 (© Thames Television) ‘Now this little group of survivors from those days gathered around Margot Turner and, unaccompanied as they had been then, and a little hesistantly at first in these strange surroundings, they began to sing. But as the words flooded back and their confidence grew there was a truly remarkable transformation. The years visibly fell away from them and the cloak of their reserve disappeared so that they were the young women again, vulnerable, beleaguered, a little afraid but taking strength from each other, as they must have done them… It was suddenly apparent that an extraordinary sisterhood had existed between these women in those days when they faced a common peril and had last sung The Captives’ Hymn together. It was that glimpse of such a powerful bond between women who had gone on to lead the rest of their lives so much like everybody else, that made it imperative to know more about them and the experience they had shared all those years ago.’ [Page 2, Women Beyond the Wire] Warner’s later research led to the Omnibus documentary Women in Captivity (1979) and thereafter to the drama series Tenko (1981-85), and, with John Sandilands, the seminal book on the topic Women Beyond the Wire (1982). The Captives’ Hymn has been featured on Songs of Praise, is used at VJ Day services, and still sung to this day by women’s choirs all around the world.
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AntisemitismCanada In 2026, Tulsa And Panama Are Courting Canadian Jews As Antisemitism Redefines The Cost Of Staying As antisemitism reaches unprecedented levels across Canada, Jewish families and professionals are quietly reassessing their futures, and some are being actively courted elsewhere. Ron East By: Ron East December 31, 2025 SHARE A growing number of Canadian Jews are exploring relocation options A growing number of Canadian Jews are exploring relocation options as antisemitism intensifies and confidence in public protection erodes. (Image: Illustration.) TORONTO — For generations, Canada sold itself as a country where Jews could thrive without constantly looking over their shoulders. That assumption no longer holds for a growing number of Canadian Jews, particularly in the aftermath of October 7 and the months that followed. What has changed is not only the number of antisemitic incidents. It is the atmosphere. Public hostility has been normalized. Jewish schools, synagogues, and community centres operate under permanent security protocols. Anti-Jewish intimidation is increasingly framed as political expression. Enforcement is inconsistent. Accountability is rare. When Jewish life requires constant risk assessment, mobility stops being a luxury. It becomes a rational act of self-preservation. That reality helps explain why, in 2026, two very different destinations, Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Panama, are appearing with growing frequency in serious conversations among Canadian Jews who have the means and flexibility to move. This is not a panic migration. It is a strategic recalculation. Canada’s new warning lights Jewish Canadians represent a small fraction of the population, yet account for a vastly disproportionate share of reported hate crimes. This is not a perception problem. It is a documented pattern. More troubling than the statistics themselves is the message many Jews hear in response: concern, sympathy, and context, but little deterrence. Protests that spill into harassment are tolerated. Jewish institutions are targeted repeatedly. Antisemitism disguised as antizionism is parsed endlessly rather than confronted directly. The result is a slow erosion of confidence in the state’s willingness or ability to enforce equal protection. When a community moves from assuming it belongs to hoping nothing happens today, the social contract has already been fractured. It is within this context that Tulsa and Panama are not merely attracting attention but actively courting. Lech Le’Tulsa and intentional Jewish welcome Tulsa is not presenting itself as a refuge city. It is presenting itself as a place that wants Jewish life to grow. In 2026, that effort has taken concrete form through Lech Le’Tulsa, a Jewish-focused relocation initiative designed to attract Jewish families, professionals, and entrepreneurs to the Tulsa area. The program combines relocation assistance with intentional community building and access to Jewish infrastructure. The name is deliberate. Lech Lecha, the biblical call to go forth and build a future, is not branding by accident. It speaks directly to a Jewish historical instinct that understands movement not as retreat, but as agency. Lech Le’Tulsa offers what many Canadian Jews increasingly feel is missing at home: A clear signal that Jewish presence is welcomed, not merely accommodated Immediate access to synagogues, schools, and Jewish communal life A civic environment where Jewish identity is not treated as a liability The financial incentives matter, but the social architecture matters more. Tulsa is offering a landing ramp. It is saying, we are prepared for you to arrive. That clarity stands in stark contrast to the ambiguity Canadian Jews experience when their safety concerns are acknowledged but endlessly deferred. Panama and the appeal of optionality Panama represents a different but equally rational response to insecurity. For Canadian Jews with international mobility, Panama offers residency pathways tied to investment, business activity, or long-term economic contribution. It also offers something increasingly valuable: optionality. Panama has an established Jewish community, a comparatively lower cost of living, and an immigration framework that openly courts skilled and capital-carrying residents. For some, it is a permanent relocation. For others, it is a second base, a contingency plan, or a future passport pathway. What matters is not the destination itself, but the logic behind the choice. When Jews seek second options, they are not rejecting diaspora life. They are applying historical lessons. Jewish continuity has always depended on redundancy, resilience, and the ability to move before crisis becomes catastrophe. The Zionist lens Canadians prefer to ignore Zionism does not deny the legitimacy of diaspora life. It insists that Jews must never be dependent on the goodwill of others for safety or equality. That lesson was written in blood long before the modern State of Israel existed. Israel institutionalized it at a national level. Individual Jews apply it on a personal level. When Canadian Jews explore Tulsa or Panama, they are not abandoning Canada in anger. They are responding rationally to warning signs. They are building leverage. They are ensuring their children have options. This is what Zionist consciousness looks like outside Israel. It is quiet, pragmatic, and unsentimental. An indictment Canada should take seriously Tulsa and Panama are not superior societies. They are intentional ones. Tulsa is saying, we want contributors, and we are prepared to integrate them. Panama is saying, we want residents and investment, and we have clear legal pathways. Canada, too often, is saying something else entirely: we are sorry you feel unsafe, but the politics are complicated. A serious country does not treat antisemitism as a public relations challenge. It treats it as a threat to civic order. That requires enforcement, deterrence, and moral clarity, including the willingness to name antisemitism even when it hides behind fashionable political language. Until that happens, Canada should not be surprised when Jews quietly explore exit ramps. The bottom line In 2026, the fact that Tulsa and Panama can plausibly court Canadian Jews is not an oddity. It is a warning. When antisemitism reaches levels that fundamentally alter how Jews calculate their futures, movement becomes strategy. History teaches Jews to act before apologies arrive too late. Canada still has time to reverse this trajectory. But time matters. And Jews, having learned this lesson repeatedly, are no longer inclined to wait.
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