On, in thy mission! 'T is a holy power
That which thou wieldest o'er a people's heart:
And wastes of mind, that never knew a flower,
Bloom now and brighten, 'neath thy magic art.
Hearthstones are cheerful that were chill before;
And softened beams, like light that melteth through
The stained glass of old cathedrals, pour
Stream upon stream of beauty. All that's true,
All that is brave and beautiful, 't is thine—
High office, high and holy! thus to shed,
Sun-like, and sole, in shadow or in shine,
Thoughts that bedew and rouse minds cold and dead,
Startling the pulse that stirred not. This is thine! Be proudly humble: 't is a power divine!