Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no Winter now. The frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;
The thunder is the thunder of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.
Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us till we take
The longest stride of soul [we] ever took.
Affairs are now soul size,
Is exploration into God.
Christopher Fry, A Sleep of Prisoners (London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1951)