John Greenleaf Whittier

“ So priestcraft from its altars cursed
The mournful doubts its falsehood nursed.
Ah! well of old the Psalmist prayed,
"Thy hand, not man's, on me be laid!"
Earth frowns below, Heaven weeps above,
And man is hate, but God is love! ”

“ Slaves rise up men; the olive waves,
With roots deep set in battle graves!
"Through the harsh noises of our day
A low, sweet prelude finds its way;
Through clouds of doubt, and creeds of fear,
A light is breaking, calm and clear. ”

“ Through present wrong, the eternal right;
And, step by step, since time began,
I see the steady gain of man;
"That all of good the past hath had
Remains to make our own time glad,
Our common daily life divine,
And every land a Palestine. ”