A Hymn Of The Many Poem by Ambrose Bierce

God's people sorely were oppressed,
I heard their lamentations long;
I hear their singing, clear and strong,
I see their banners in the West!

The captains shout the battle-cry,
The legions muster in their might;
They turn their faces to the light,
They lift their arms, they testify:

'We sank beneath the Master's thong,
Our chafing chains were ne'er undone;
Now clash your lances in the sun
And bless your banners with a song!

'God bides his time with patient eyes
While tyrants build upon the land;
He lifts his face, he lifts his hand,
And from the stones his temples rise.

'Now Freedom waves her joyous wing
Beyond the foemen's shields of gold.
March forward, singing, for, behold,
The right shall rule while God is king!'