Orphan and heir of all the centuries,
Who on thy baby leaf-bed in the wood
Grew’st frugal plotting for to-morrow’s food;
And thou, dear Bay State, mother of us all,
Forget not in new cares thine ancient call!
“Though all things else should perish in the sod,
Hold with firm clutch thy Pilgrim faith in God,
And the calm courage that deemed all things light
Whene’er the inward voice said, ‘This is right!’
If for the children there should come a time