Whatever is a cruel wrong,
    Whatever is unjust,
The honest years that speed along
    Will trample in the dust.
In restless youth I railed at fate
    With all my puny might,
But now I know if I but wait
    It all will come out right.

Though Vice may don the judge's gown
    And play the censor's part,
And Fact be cowed by Falsehood's frown
    And Nature ruled by art;
Though Labor toils through blinding tears
    And idle Wealth is might,
I know the honest, earnest years
    Will bring it all out right.

Though poor and loveless creeds may pass
    For pure religion's gold;
Though ignorance may rule the mass
    While truth meets glances cold,
I know a law complete, sublime,
    Controls us with its might,
And in God's own appointed time
    It all will come out right.