The power of wrong
Is iron strong;
Is the power of right, then, weak?
The power of right
Is a greater might
Than thou can'st think or speak.
Each claims the world.
Right's word is hurled
That it bears fear of none;
But wrong foregoes
War, till it knows
Some foul advantage won.
Where'er they clash
And great blows crash,
Wrong, fearful, counts each friend;
Let friends be few,
Let none be true,
Right battles till the end!
They struggle still
Through well and ill;
Wrong tricks its every blow.
With brave sword hand
Right still would stand
In fair fight with its foe.
Through time's full length
Wrong guards its strength
As if it feared its fate;
Right risks its all,
To stand or fall,
With patience which can wait.
Once wounded sore,
Wrong strives no more,
But trembling with its smart,
Flees from disdain,
To staunch its pain,
And hide its coward heart.
On every field
Where it must yield,
Right fears no mortal thrust,
But rises there
Still strong to dare,
Though struck down to the dust!
Wrong's falsest power
Fails hour by hour,
And ever stands at bay;
But the heart of right
It thirsts for fight,
Grown stronger every day.
Till one by one
Lies flee the sun,
And the war-worn years are sped,
And the last bold deed
Is right's good meed,
And wrong sinks, stricken dead.
The power of wrong
Is strong, thrice strong,
And the fearful cringe and cry;
But a blow shall fall
To end it all,
Ere the years of man go by!