The Union

You that have gathered together the sons of all races,

And welded them into one,

Lifting the torch of your Freedom on hungering faces

That sailed to the setting sun;

You that have made of mankind in your own proud regions

The music of man to be,

How should the old earth sing of you, now, as your legions

Rise to set all men free?

How should the singer that knew the proud vision and loved it,

In the days when not all men knew,

Gaze through his tears, on the light, now the world has approved it;

Or dream, when the dream comes true?

How should he sing when the Spirit of Freedom in thunder

Speaks, and the wine-press is red;

And the sea-winds are loud with the chains that are broken asunder

And nations that rise from the dead?

Flag of the sky, proud flag of that wide communion,

Too mighty for thought to scan;

Flag of the many in one, and that last world-union

That kingdom of God in man;

Ours was a dream, in the night, of that last federation,

But yours is the glory unfurled—

The marshalled nations and stars that shall make one nation

One singing star of the world.