Classic Poem

Lo! through the dismal tides of tribulation
We struggle long.
Chained are thy chosen souls in every nation:
Fettered, though strong.

Lift thou thy face, and all the dark is broken
As with great light.
Through all the blackness speak one word of token,
One word of might.

We trust thee with a trust that cannot alter
Though skies be grim.
Our foemen gather around: we do not falter
Though hope grows dim.

We know in the end that thy great hand shall find us;
That we shall sleep
Within thy bosom as in the home assigned us,
Reward to reap.

By all the scent of gracious summer filling
Thy neck and hands;
By thy sweet touch our souls and bodies thrilling
And saving lands,

Deliver us, and with the ancient splendour
Imbue the skies,
Till the old hymns of happy hearts and tender
To thy throne rise.

We are forlorn and weary and forsaken,
So men declare:
Yet are we firm and changeless and unshaken,
For yet thou art fair

Before us in the great eternal meadows
Where spring shines bright,
And in the purple fathomless far shadows
Of boundless night.

We trust thee and we flinch not, O our deathless
God, love and queen!
We follow thee with all the old rapture breathless
And thy robes' sheen.

Not pain can turn, nor death destroy who follow
The bloom of thee,
From morning's flame till evening's shadows swallow
Thy shore and sea.