Those who have prophet-eyes
Now look beyond this selfish hour
To time untouched by greed's long ego-fingers,
And see apathy's limp spine strengthened
And the hurricanes of intolerance stilled.
The prophet-ears now hear,
Above the voices of diplomacy worn thin
And the mingled heart-cries of all nations,
Chords of universal harmony.
Then stone by shining stone
Men, working as brothers of the Royal Rank,
Will build the Millennium of Peace.
Gay little feet of black and white will skip
Down flowered lanes together;
Toil-imprinted hands, both light and swarthy-hued,
Will fold in prayer and clasp before love's altar,
Each face illumined by compassion.
When school bells ring, the schools in all the world
Will make each child a friend to every child.
Star-tall upon their dreams,
The youth will view beyond their own confining rim
And reach to take the hands of youth of every race
Then enter, side by side, through open doors
And build the Temple of their noblest dreams.
Listening, can you not hear the universal melody?
Builders of peace, begin your task!
