O dear my Country, beautiful and dear,
Love cloth not darken sight.
God looketh through Love's eyes, whose vision clear Beholds more flaws than keenest Hate hath known.
Nor is Love's judgment gentle, but austere;
The heart of Love must break ere it condone One stain upon the white.
There comes an hour when on the parent turns The challenge of the child;
The bridal passion for perfection burns;
Life gives her last allegiance to the best;
Each sweet idolatry the spirit spurns,
Once more enfranchised for its starry quest Of beauty undefiled.
Love must be one with honor; yet to-day Love liveth by a sign;
Allows no lasting compromise with clay,
But tends the mounting miracle of gold,
Content with service till the bud make way To the rejoicing sunbeams that unfold Its culminant divine.
There is a rumoring among the stars,
A trouble in the sun.
Freedom, most holy word, hath fallen at jars With her own deeds; 'tis Mammon's jubilee;
Again the cross contends with scimitars;
The seraphim look down with dread to see Earth's noblest hope undone.
O dear my Country, beautiful and dear,
Ultimate dream of Time,
By all thy millions longing to revere A pure, august, authentic commonweal,
Climb to the light.
Imperiled Pioneer Of Brotherhood among the nations, seal Our faith with thy sublime.
