With noiseless steps good goes its way;
The earth shakes under evil’s tread.
We hear the uproar, and ’tis said,
The world grows wicked every day.
It is not true. With quiet feet,
In silence, Virtue sows her seeds;
While Sin goes shouting out his deeds,
And echoes listen and repeat.
But surely as the old world moves,
And circles round the shining sun,
So surely does God’s purpose run,
And all the human race improves.
Despite bold evil’s noise and stir,
Truth’s golden harvests ripen fast;
The Present far outshines the Past;
Men’s thoughts are higher than they were.
Who runs may read this truth, I say:
Sin travels in a rumbling car,
While Virtue soars on like a star—
The world grows better every day.