By such strange and wonderful ways
God would save His world again.
All our days are holy days,
Starry heroes all our men.
There's naught common or unclean
In this splendid new-made earth:
Hearts uplifted, eyes serene,
Grief goes gayer now than mirth.
Quietly in the sacred night
Tears must fall, O noble tears!
That are shed in the Lords' sight
And are only for His ears.
Who would mourn aloud for sons
Gorgeous in our firmament,
Starry constellations
In the way their fathers went?
From the innumerable grave
There will spring a world new-born,
With the austerest eyes and brave
And its clear gaze towards the morn.
He who gave His Son to die
For man's purchase, gives once more
These, His beloved sons, to buy
Him a world worth dying for.
