This dream is that the story
  The ages have unrolled
  Shall blossom in the glory
  Of one long age of gold;
  That every man and woman
  Shall find life glad and free,
  That in whate’er is human
  Is hid Divinity.

  The rod of old oppression
  One day shall broken be;
  Those held in night’s possession
  The light of hope shall see;
  For tears there shall be laughing,
  And peace shall be for strife,
  And thirsty lips be quaffing
  The wine of glorious life.

  The rage and noise of battle
  Shall sink, and fall to peace,
  The lowing of the cattle,
  The fruit and corn increase;
  No more the wide sky under
  The rattle of the drum,
  No more the cannon’s thunder,—­
  God’s kingdom shall have come.

  Some day, dearest, where skies are bright,
  We’ll dwell in the beauty of love and light;
  And sorrow will seem
  Like a far-off dream,
  And life shall be morning, that knows no night!

  Some day, dearest—­that perfect day
  For which we knelt in the dark to pray
  We’ll reap the rest
  That God deems best—­
  In the beautiful vales of the far-away!”