O, sometimes gleams upon our sight,
Through present wrong, the Eternal Right!
And step by step, since time began,
We see the steady gain of man.
That all of good the past hath had
Remains to make our own time glad,
Our common daily life divine,
And every land a Palestine.
We lack but open eye and ear
To find the Orient’s marvels here,
The still small voice in autumn’s hush,
Yon maple wood the burning bush.
For still the new transcends the old,
In signs and tokens manifold;
Slaves rise up men; the olive waves
With roots deep set in battle graves.
Through the harsh noises of our day
A low, sweet prelude finds its way;
Through clouds of doubt and creeds of fear
A light is breaking, calm and clear.
Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more
For olden time and holier shore;
God’s love and blessing, then and there,
Are now, and here, and everywhere.