Holy Russia Poem by Amelia Josephine Burr

The world shall be made new
Since thou hast found thy soul.
There shall be freedom for the Jew
And justice for the Pole.
Finland's chain shall break
As breaks the ice in spring,
And spirits like the birds awake
That were too sad to sing.

Throughout the troubled earth
Prophetic tremors run --
It is the travail of the birth
Of Freedom's youngest son.
Dreams that have been as dead
Rise glorious from their grave
As throb to a deliverer's tread
The pulses of the slave.

Torch of the Holy Fires,
Lead us along thy way
Up to the vision of our sires
That we have cloaked with clay!
Humbly we yield to thee
The glory of the van.
Lead on, where calls through liberty
The brotherhood of man!