Where is this kingdom, Lord, where the poor are kings,
where we hold only what we give up?
Where is this kingdom, Lord, where there is boundless joy in welcoming the lost son,
where the outcasts and strangers are invited to the feast table?
Where is this kingdom, where soldiers become poets,
where swords are forged together into ploughshares?
Where is this kingdom, where a widow’s penny is worth more than all the gold of the rich,
where he who works but an hour receives a day labourer’s wage?