Sing, prophetic, mystic walls, of the dreams of the builders; Sing in thundering tones that shall thrill us To try our dull discontent, our barren wisdom Against their propagating, unquenchable, questionless visions. Sing in renerving refrain of the resolute men, Each a Lincoln in his smoldering patience, Each a Luther in his fearless faith, Who made a breach in the wall of darkness And let the hosts of liberty march through. Calm, eternal walls, tranquil, mature, Which old voices, old songs, old kisses cover, As mosses and lichens cover your ancient stones, Teach me the secret of your serene repose; Tell of the greater things to be, When love and wisdom are the only creed, And law and right are one. Sing that the Lord cometh, the Lord cometh, The fountain-head and spring of life! Sing, steady, exultant walls, in strains hallowed and touched with fire, Sing that the Lord shall build us all together. As living stones build us, cemented together. May He who knoweth every pleasant thing That our sires forewent to teach the peoples law and truth, Who counted every stone blessed by their consecrated hands, Grant that we remain liberty-loving, substantial, elemental, And that faith, the rock not fashioned of human hands, Be the stability of our triumphant, toiling days. End of Project Gutenberg's The Song of the Stone Wall, by Helen Keller