Take then my prayer, Ye dwellers of this spot

Take then my prayer, Ye dwellers of this spot— Be yours a noiseless and a guiltless lot. I plead not that ye bask In the rank beams of vulgar fame; To light your steps I ask A purer and a holier flame. No bloated growth I supplicate for you, No pining multitude, no pampered few; 'Tis not alone to coffer gold, Nor spreading borders to behold; 'Tis not fast-swelling crowds to win, The refuse-ranks of want and sin— This be the kind decree: Be ye by goodness crowned, Revered, though not renowned; Poor, if Heaven will, but Free! Free from the tyrants of the hour, The clans of wealth, the clans of power, The coarse, cold scorners of their God; Free from the taint of sin, The leprosy that feeds within, And free, in mercy, from the bigot's rod.