Sons of Promise

by Thomas Curtis Clark
In every meanest face I see
A perfected humanity;
All men, though brothers of the clod,
Bear promise of the sons of God.

No human ore that does not hold
A precious element of gold;
No heart so blackened and debased
But has for Him some treasure chaste.

In every meanest face I see
A perfected humanity;
All men, though brothers of the clod,
Bear promise of the sons of God.

No human ore that does not hold
A precious element of gold;
No heart so blackened and debased
But has for Him some treasure chaste.
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Language: 
English
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