  Before this truth be bared each brow,— The infinite is here and now! As sacred as the stars, the sod,— As near to Heaven, as close to God. Call nothing common or unclean,— Nor deem thou any service mean; Forevermore this faith be thine,— All days, all duties, are divine. E’en now, at thy reluctant feet, The seed-time and the harvest meet; “The morrow in the moment lies:” Heed well the Voice; awake! arise! He, only he, is free indeed, Who in his heart holds fast this creed,— (A fadeless wreath for every brow), The infinite is here and now!
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