By such strange and wonderful ways

God would save His world again.

All our days are holy days,

Starry heroes all our men.

There's naught common or unclean

In this splendid new-made earth:

Hearts uplifted, eyes serene,

Grief goes gayer now than mirth.

Quietly in the sacred night

Tears must fall, O noble tears!

That are shed in the Lords' sight

And are only for His ears.

Who would mourn aloud for sons

Gorgeous in our firmament,

Starry constellations

In the way their fathers went?

From the innumerable grave

There will spring a world new-born,

With the austerest eyes and brave

And its clear gaze towards the morn.

He who gave His Son to die

For man's purchase, gives once more

These, His beloved sons, to buy

Him a world worth dying for.