Prophecy

We shall thank our God for graces

That we've never known before;

We shall look on manlier faces

When our troubled days are o'er.

We shall rise a better nation

From the battle's grief and grime,

And shall win our soul's salvation

In this bitter trial time.

And the old Flag waving o'er us

In the dancing morning sun

Will be daily singing for us

Of a splendor new begun.

When the rifles cease to rattle

And the cannon cease to roar,

When is passed the smoke of battle

And the death lists are no more,

With a yet undreamed of beauty

As a people we shall rise,

And a love of right and duty

Shall be gleaming in our eyes.

As a country, tried by sorrow,

With a heritage of worth,

We shall stand in that to-morrow

With the leaders of the earth.