1 God, though this life is but a wraith,
Although we know not what we use,
Although we grope with little faith,
Give me the heart to fight and lost.

2 Ever insurgent let me be,
Make me more daring than devout;
From sleek contentment keep me free,
And fill me with a buoyant doubt.

3 Open my eyes to visions girt
With beauty, and with wonder lit,
But let me always see the dirt
And all that spawn and die in it.

4 Open my ears to music; let
Me thrill with spring’s first flutes and drums,
But never let me dare forget
The bitter ballad of the slums.

5 From compromise and things half done,
Keep me, with stern and stubborn pride;
And when at last, the fight is won,
God, keep me still unsatisfied.