Six choral songs to be sung in time of war

 ... 

O man! hold thee on in courage of soul
Through the stormy shades of thy wordly way,
And the billows of clouds that around thee roll
Shall sleep in the light of a wondrous day,
Where hell and heaven shall leave thee free
To the universe of destiny.

Life may change, but it may fly not;
Hope may vanish, but can die not;
Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;
Love repulsed, - but it returneth!

Yet were life a charnel, where
Hope lay coffined with Despair;
Yet were Truth a sacred lie,
Love were lust --

                           If Liberty
Lent not life its soul of light,
Hope its iris of delight,
Truth its prophet's robe to wear,
Love its power to give and bear.

   Love, from its awful throne of patient power
In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour
  Of dread endurance, from the slippery, steep,
And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs
And folds over the world its healing wings.

 ... 

To suffer woes which hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;
   To defy power which seems omnipotent;
To love and bear; to hope till hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
   Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great, and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.

O Spirit vast and deep as Night and Heaven!
Mother and soul of all to which is given
The light of life, the loveliness of being,
Lo! thou dost re_ascend the human heart,
Thy throne of power, almighty as thou wert
In dreams of Poets old grown pale by seeing
The shade of thee; -- now, millions start
To feel thy lightnings through them burning:
Nature, or God, or Love, or Pleasure,
Or Sympathy the sad tears turning
To mutual smiles, a drainless treasure,
Descends amidst us; -- Scorn and Hate,
Revenge and Selfishness are desolate --
A hundred nations swear that there shall be
Pity and Peace and Love, among the good and free!

The world's great age begins anew,
    The golden years return, 
The earth doth like a snake renew
    Her winter weeds outworn: 
Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam,
Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.

A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
    From waves serener far; 
A new Peneus rolls his fountains
    Against the morning star. 
Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep
Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.

Another Athens shall arise,
    And to remoter time 
Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,
    The splendour of its prime; 
And leave, if nought so bright may live,
All earth can take or Heaven can give.

Oh, cease! must hate and death return?
    Cease! must men kill and die? 
Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn
    Of bitter prophecy. 
The world is weary of the past,
Oh, might it die or rest at last!