He sits enthroned who sits supreme
Above the passions of his clay;
Nor fears remorse, nor feels the scourge
Of conscience at the end of day.
He has no greed for wealth that's won
By bargain in the marts of sin,
Nor lust for fame whose paans mock
The hollow heart that wails within.
His lips attuned to nature's lyre,
He sings as sang the early stars;
His clean hands suited to God's plan,
His handiwork no blemish mars,
He gives to all unselfish due,
Nor claims what others may not share;
And every cry of woe bespeaks
His ready bounty with his prayer.
So, doing God's will on the earth
With love illimitable zoned,
Though waiting yet his higher birth
He sits enthroned.
—
