Oh, sometimes glimpses on my sight,
Through present wrong, the eternal light;
And step by step since time began,
I see the steady gain of man.
That all of good the past hath had
Remains to make our own time glad,
Our common daily life divine,
And every land a Palestine.
For still the new transcends the old
In signs and tokens manifold;
Slaves rise up men, the olive waves
With roots deep set in battle-graves.
Through the harsh noises of our day,
A low, sweet prelude finds its way;
Through clouds of doubt and creeds of fear
A light is breaking, calm and clear.
by J. G. Whittier.
