God's kingdom does not come
With the emblazoned silken banners flying,
With shrilling of the trumpet's clarion crying,
With the deep roll of drum.
But, as vague dreams of night
Fade into nothing when we rouse from sleeping
To find the sun his morning vigil keeping,
Bathing the world in light;
So, as one may obey
The "still small voice," he wakes to find the seeming
Of sin, disease, and death was but the dreaming.
God's kingdom is, today.
And, lo! we see one stand
High above those who still in blindness linger,
Pointing their way, with step-compelling finger,
Into the promised land.
