Come, cradle all the future generations,
and guard their right to live upon this earth,
lest human deeds, by stealth or conflagration,
snuff out all life, and put an end to birth.
Come, contemplate the sadness of extinction:
a wasted earth, with empty sky and sea,
no mourners to lament its desolation,
no voice, no words, no thought, no eyes to see.
We cannot stifle knowledge or invention.
The ways divide, the choice forever clear:
to drift, and be delivered to destruction,
or wake and work, till trust out-matches fear.
The precious seed of life is in our keeping,
yet if we plant it, and fulfill our trust,
tomorrow's sun will rise on joy and weeping,
and shine upon the unjust and the just.
Our calling is to live our human story
of good and bad, achievement, love, and loss,
then hand it on to future shame or glory,
lit by our hope, and leavened by the cross.
Come, let us guard the gateway to existence,
that thousands yet may stand where we have stood,
give thanks for life and, praising our persistence,
enjoy this lovely earth, and call it good.