The manliest man of all the race,
Whose heart is open as his face,
Puts forth his hand to help another.
Tis not the blood of kith or kin,
Tis not the color of the skin;
Tis the true heart which beats within
Which makes the man a man and brother.

His words are warm upon his lips,
His heart beats to his finger-tips,
He is a friend and loyal neighbor.
Sweet children kiss him on the way,
And women trust him, for they may,
He owes no debt he cannot pay;
He earns his bread with honest labor.

He lifts the fallen from the ground,
And puts his feet upon the round
Of dreaming Jacob's starry ladder,
Which lifts him higher, day by day,
Toward the bright and heavenly way,
And further from the tempter's sway,
Which stingeth like the angry adder.

He strikes oppression to the dust,
He shares the blows aimed at the just,
He shrinks not from the post of danger.
And in the thickest of the fight
He battles bravely for the right,
For that is mightier than might,
Though cradled in an humble manger.

Hail to the manly man! he comes
Not with the sound of horns and drums,
Though grand as any duke, and grander;
He dawns upon the world, and light
Dispels the dreary gloom of night,
And ills, like bats and owls, take flight;
He's greater than great Alexander.