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.