In the busy haunts of men.
Ay call it holy ground The soil where first they trod They have left unstained what there they found - Freedom to worship God.
The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
There is none In all this cold and hollow world no fount Of deep strong deathless love save that within A mother's heart.
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast. And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches toss'd.