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.
Katharine Tynan’s other poems:
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