And on the sod
Whence sprang a race so strong, so free from guile,
Men shall behold, in just a little while,
The smile of God.
Land of the brave—soon, by God's grace, the free—
Thy woe is transient; joy shall come to thee;
It cannot fail.
The darkest night gives way to rosy dawn,
And thou, perchance, shalt see on Easter morn,
The Holy Grail.