Down through the corridors of centuries
Echoes the song of Hannah to impart
Its litany of universal pleas
That man again reflect the Master's art.
We, through our sons, could bring an end to war
If every mother followed Hannah's way.
Would that her cry might echo planet-far,
"For him, my child, I prayed, and from today
I lend him to the Lord!" The joy of this:
A race of fair young gods who would annul
The thrall of might, the saber's piercing kiss,
Rebuilding Eden through love's miracle!
Our sons lent to the Lord! O mothers, we
May all be Hannahs shaping destiny.
