Father of Universal Man,
Where'er in this wide world he roam,
Not known to thee by kith or clan,
Nor height, nor breadth of mental dome,
Nor babbling tongue, nor sounding creed,
But by his woe and common need.
The pushing Anglo-Saxon race,
The Celts with wealth of heart and mind,
The Esquimaux of leaden face,
The Arabs whom no chain can bind,
With hardy Boers and all the rest,
Are with one common Father blest.
And all are brothers, though at times
Our flashing swords obscure the sun.
We ring aloud our Christmas chimes,
But louder sounds the booming gun,
And brother is by brother slain,
And kindred ties are rent in twain.
Yet Thou art true whate'er betide;
Thy heart o'er human woe doth melt;
For men of every race Christ died,
And, as a zone, Thy love would belt
All human kind from pole to pole
Into one grand, harmonious whole.
Men war with men in every clime,
Commotions rock this earthly ball;
Our souls are covered o'er with grime--
Sad fruits of our Adamic fall,
But grace shall triumph in the end,
And good the evil far transcend.
Thy throne remains forever firm,
And here, amidst the strife of men,
We find with joy a heavenly germ
Which shall re-stock this world again
With fruitful plants of righteousness,
If Thou, O God, but deign to bless.
Help us that we may not deny
Our brotherhood in hour of strife;
When swords shall from their scabbards fly,
And great the sacrifice of life,
May we in pity o'er them bend,
And help to wounded foe extend.
If we are working out Thy plan,
Give our brave soldiers arms of steel,
And may each prove himself a man--
To God and to his nation leal,
And never falter in the fight,
But die, if need be, for the right.
May right prevail in this dread war,
Though we be humbled in the dust;
To fail our end is better far
Then gain it, if it be unjust,
But if our aims with Thine agree--
We trust--and leave results with Thee.
The world moves on; let none essay
To block it in its onward course,
Lest they like chaff be swept away
As by a supernatural force;
For laggards progress does not wait--
Keep pace with time or bide your fate.
May our brave foes rise in defeat
To higher form of liberty;
And Freedom's flag, as seemeth meet,
Wave over all from sea to sea;
Pushed on as by the hand of fate
To nationhood, both firm and great.