So all intolerable wrong shall fade,
No brother shall a brother’s rights invade,
But all shall champion all:
Then shall men bear with an unconquered will
And iron heart the inevitable ill;
O’er pain, wrong, passion, death, victorious still
And calm, though suns should fall.
Oh priests who mourn that reverence is dead,
Man quits a fading faith, and asks instead
A worship great and true.