The world we knew is passing.
All things grow strange, all but the stout heart’s courage.
All the undiminished luster of an ancient dream,
which we shall dream again,
as others have dreamed before us.
Pilgrims forever, of a world forever new.
And what we loved and lost
we lose to find how great a thing is loving.
And the power of it to make a dream come true.
For us there is no haven or refuge.
For us there is only the wilderness, wild and trackless,
where we shall build a road and sing a song.
But after us, after us there is the promised land.
Strong from our sorrows and singing from our joys,
our gift to those who follow us
along the road that we build, singing our song.
The world we knew is passing…by Rev. A. Powell Davies
