Not in dumb resignation
We lift our hands on high;
Not like the nerveless fatalist
Content to trust and die;
Our faith springs like the eagle,
That soars to meet the sun;
And cries exultingly to Thee,
“O Lord, Thy will be done!?

Thy will! It strengthens weakness,
It bids the strong be just;
No lip to fawn, no hand to beg,
No brow to seek the dust;
Wherever man oppresses man
Beneath Thy liberal sun,
O Lord, be there,
Thine arm made bare,
Thy righteous will be done!