"God's mill," 'tis said, "grinds fine, tho' slow,"
A fact lost sight of in the strife
For place and power in Church and State,
And think God cares not what we do;
But to our doubt he whispers "wait,"
And time proves Him both just and true.
From England and from sunny France
Our fathers came, long years ago;
On Abraham's plain with sword and lance
They fought as foes—gave blow for blow.