There's but one gift that all our dead desire,
One gift that man can give and that's a dream.
Unless we too can burn with that same fire
Of sacrifice, die to the little hatreds, die to greed,
Die to the old ignoble selves we know,
Die to the base contempt of sect and creed,
And live again like those with souls as true.
Nay, since they died before their task was finished,
Attempt new heights, bring bigger dreams to birth:
Build us a better world, not diminished
By one true splendour that they left on earth.
And that's not done by sword or tongue or pen:
There's but one way - God make us better men.
(Contributed by The Minister having adapted lines from
the nineteenth centiny English literary critic, Alfred Noyes.)