Borro Boedoor

An ancient temple of an ancient faith,
When man, to show the vanity of man,
Was left to his own fantasies. All life
Was conscious of a God;—the sun, the wind,
The mighty ocean, and the distant stars,
Become his prototypes. At length there came
The great appointed hour; the Truth shone forth.
The living waters of the Gospel flow'd,
And earth drank life and hope. The work is still
Gradual and incomplete;—it is man's task,
And more his glorious privilege, to aid.
Our England is a living fountain now,
Whence flow the waves of life,—eternal life.
O, what a power and duty is our own!
'Tis ours to shed upon man's present day
The blessing of the future and the past

How much of India yet in darkness lies!
We must dethrone the idol, and dispel
The shadows that but herald the true faith.—
We must give peace, love, charity, to earth;
And from old superstitions, vain beliefs,
And false religions, realize the true:
So morning springs from out the depths of night.