A man not perfect, but of heart so high, of such heroic rage, That even his hopes became a part of earth’s eternal heritage.
Better than honor and glory, and History’s iron pen, Was the thought of duty done and the love of his fellow-men.
My name may have buoyancy enough to float upon the sea of time.
Against the darkness outer God’s light his likeness takes, And he from the mighty doubter The great believer makes.
We lean on Faith; and some less wise have cried, “Behold the butterfly, the see that’s cast!” Vain hopes that fall like flowers before the blast! What man can look on Death unterrified?
What babe new born is this that in a manger cries? Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies. Oh, see the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings – This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of Kings.
Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee A lesson of humanity: To every mother’s heart forlorn, In every house the Christ is born.
I am the spirit of the morning sea, I am the awakening and the glad surprise.
I am the laughter of the new-born child On whose soft-breathing sleep an angel smiled.
Knights of the spirit; warriors in the cause Of justice absolute ’twixt man and man.