The pall of battle scarce had passed away,
Hearts yet were hot with hate and hard with greed,
When some love-kindled spirit hid the seed,
Whose spreading branches shelter us today;
Beloved Mother, you for whom we pray,
Be fortified to meet our every need,
At your full breasts the hungry children feed,
Nor turn a single thirsting soul away!
What hath God wrought in fifty years! we've crossed
The Valley-of-Humiliation: then
Advancing up the Hill-of-Progress, tossed
A Challenge to the world of other men.
And reaching out for all that's manhood's due
Our thanks go winging up to God--and You!