A century of sunrises hath bowed
Its fulgent forehead ‘neath the ocean-floor
Since first upon the West’s astonished shore,
Like some huge Alp forth-struggling through the cloud
A new-born nation stood, to Freedom vowed:
Within that time how many an Empire hoar
And young Republic, flushed with wealth and war,
Alike have changed the ermine for the shroud!
O “sprung from earth’s first blood,” O tempest-nursed!
For thee what Fates? I know not. This I know
The Soul’s great freedom-gift, of gifts the first—
Thou first on man in fulness didst bestow:
Hunted elsewhere, God’s Church with thee found rest:—
Thy future’s Hope is she—that queenly Guest.