110
PAST AND PRESENT
Thou hast taught us that men are as brave as of yore;
That the day of great deeds and great thought is not o'er;
That the courage undaunted, the far-reaching faith,
The strength that unshaken looks calmly on death,
The self-abnegation that hastens to lay
Its all on the altar, have not passed away.
Thou hast taught us that "country" is more than a name;
That honor unsullied is better than fame;
Thou hast proved that while man can still battle for truth,
Even boyhood can give up the promise of youth,
And, yielding its life with a smile and a sigh,
Say, "'Tis sweet for my God and my country to die."
O heart-searching Present, thy sons have gone down
To the night of the grave in their day of renown!
Thy daughters have watched by the hearthstone in vain
For the loved and the lost that returned not again.
No Spartans were they—yet with tears falling fast,
Their faith and their patience endured to the last;
And God gave them strength to their dearest to say,
"Go ye forth to the fight, while we labor and pray!"
Thou hast opened thy coffers on land and on sea,
And broad-handed Charity, noble and free,
Has lavished thy bounties on friend and on foe,
Like the rain that, descending, falls softly and slow
On the just and the unjust, and never may know
The one from the other. When thy story is told
By some age that looks backward and calls thee "the old,"
It shall puzzle its sages, all great as thou art,
To tell which was greatest, thy head or thy heart!
Mighty words thy lips have spoken—
Strongest fetters thou hast broken—
And in tones like those of thunder,
When the clouds are rent asunder,
Thou hast made the Nations hear thee—
Thou hast bade the Tyrants fear thee—
That the day of great deeds and great thought is not o'er;
That the courage undaunted, the far-reaching faith,
The strength that unshaken looks calmly on death,
The self-abnegation that hastens to lay
Its all on the altar, have not passed away.
Thou hast taught us that "country" is more than a name;
That honor unsullied is better than fame;
Thou hast proved that while man can still battle for truth,
Even boyhood can give up the promise of youth,
And, yielding its life with a smile and a sigh,
Say, "'Tis sweet for my God and my country to die."
O heart-searching Present, thy sons have gone down
To the night of the grave in their day of renown!
Thy daughters have watched by the hearthstone in vain
For the loved and the lost that returned not again.
No Spartans were they—yet with tears falling fast,
Their faith and their patience endured to the last;
And God gave them strength to their dearest to say,
"Go ye forth to the fight, while we labor and pray!"
Thou hast opened thy coffers on land and on sea,
And broad-handed Charity, noble and free,
Has lavished thy bounties on friend and on foe,
Like the rain that, descending, falls softly and slow
On the just and the unjust, and never may know
The one from the other. When thy story is told
By some age that looks backward and calls thee "the old,"
It shall puzzle its sages, all great as thou art,
To tell which was greatest, thy head or thy heart!
Mighty words thy lips have spoken—
Strongest fetters thou hast broken—
And in tones like those of thunder,
When the clouds are rent asunder,
Thou hast made the Nations hear thee—
Thou hast bade the Tyrants fear thee—
