It is a wondrous thing that thou and I On a new world are gazing, on the verge Of that vast ocean of eternity Whose hymn the prophets heard, whose rhythmic surge Fore-sounded through the centuries, and doth urge The doom of the oppressor: thus we gaze As when from Pisgah's height, upon the marge Of Palestine, athwart the encircling haze Of yore one looked, and longed in wonder and amaze. Like as an eagle, as the tale is told, Renews its youth upon the mountain's crest, Bathing in amber light of liquid gold, And gazing on the sun with fearless quest, So doth the world with all her sins confessed, Her myriad sins, her wars, her woes, her sighs— She that has given her bravest and her best— Pass through the flame, renew her life, and rise From out her own dead self into the radiant skies.
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