Classic Poem

What song is well sung not of sorrow?
What triumph well won without pain?
What virtue shall be, and not borrow
Bright luster from many a stain?

What birth has there been without travail?
What battle well won without blood?
What good shall earth see without evil
Ingarner'd as chaff with the good?

Lo! the cross set in rocks by the Roman,
And nourish'd by blood of the Lamb,
And water'd by tears of the woman,
Has flourish'd, has spread like a palm;

Has spread in the frosts, and far regions
Of snows in the North, and South sands,
Where never the tramp of his legions
Was heard, or reach'd forth his red hands.

Be thankful; the price and the payment,
The birth, the privations and scorn,
The cross, and the parting of raiment,
Are finish'd. The star brought us morn.

Look starward; stand far and unearthy,
Free soul'd as a banner unfurl'd.
Be worthy, O brother, be worthy!
For a God was the price of the world.