Coronation Poem And Prayer

The world has crowned a thousand kings:          But destiny has kept     Her weightiest hour of kingly power          To offer England's son.     The rising bell of Progress rings;          And Truths which long have slept,     Like prophets strange, predicting change,          Before Time's chariot run.     The greatest Empire of the Earth.          Old England proudly stands.     Like arteries her Colonies          Reach out from sea to sea.     She clasps all races in her girth;          Her gaze the world commands;     And far and wide where strong ships ride,          The British Flag floats free.     Oh, never since the stars began          Their round of Cosmic law,     And souls evolved in ways unsolved,          And kingdoms reached their prime     Has Destiny held out to Man          A gift so full of awe,     As England's crown which she hands down          In this stupendous time.     This is a crucial hour, when Fate          Tries Monarchs as by fire.     All rulers must be more than just -          Men starve on bread alone.     Old England's sense of RIGHT is great:          But now let her aspire     To feel more love, and build thereof          An everlasting Throne.     The dreaming East, awake at last,          Is asking 'when' and 'why';     Wait not too long nor answer wrong,          Nor in too stern a voice.     Let England profit by her past,          And with her wise reply     Rouse hearts, within her foster kin          To hope, and to rejoice.     True wealth dwells not in things we own,          But in our USE of things.     Who would command a conquered land          Must conquer first its heart.     Such might as Man has never known,          And power undreamed by kings,     And boundless strength would come at length          To one who used that art.     For now has dawned the People's day:          A day of great unrest.     Nor king nor creed can still man's need          Of time and space to grow.     All lands must shape a wider way,          For this eternal quest;     And Leisure yield a larger field          Where work-worn feet may go.     The Universe is all a-thrill          With changes imminent.     The World in faith, with bated breath,          Holds free the Leader's place.     And wise is he whose heart and will          At one with Time's intent,     Shall open wide doors long denied          To MOTHERS of the race.     On this round globe, oh, when and where          Were fitter time and scene     For Woman's soul to reach its goal          Than NOW in England's realm.     Was not the crown its King will wear          Made glorious by its Queen?     And who steered straight its ship of State?          VICTORIA AT THE HELM!     Kings have been kings by accident,          By favour and by force,     But right of birth and moral worth,          And Empires rich and broad     For England's King to-day are blent          Like rivers on one course.     But, ah! the light falls searching white          Down from the Throne of God.     Lord of the Earth and heavenly-spheres,          Creator of all things,     Thou who hast wrought great worlds from naught,          Give strength to England's son.     Give courage to dispel those fears          That come to even kings,     And for his creed give Love's full mead;          Amen.    Thy Will be done.