Excerpt
IN WAR TIME.
TO SAMUEL E. SEWALL AND HARRIET W. SEWAll, OF MELROSE.
These lines to my old friends stood as dedication in the volume which contained a collection of pieces under the general title of In War Time. The group belonging distinctly under that title I have retained here; the other pieces in the volume are distributed among the appropriate divisions.
OLOR ISCANUS queries: "Why should weVex at the land's ridiculous miserie?"So on his Usk banks, in the blood-red dawnOf England's civil strife, did careless VaughanBemock his times. O friends of many years!Though faith and trust are stronger than our fears,And the signs promise peace with liberty,Not thus we trifle with our country's tearsAnd sweat of agony. The future's gainIs certain as God's truth; but, meanwhile, painIs bitter and tears are salt: our voices takeA sober tone; our very household songsAre heavy with a nation's griefs and wrongs;And innocent mirth is chastened for the sakeOf the brave hearts that nevermore shall beat,The eyes that smile no more, the unreturningfeet!1863
THY WILL BE DONE.WE see not, know not; all our wayIs night,—with Thee alone is dayFrom out the torrent's troubled drift,Above the storm our prayers we lift,Thy will be done!
The flesh may fail, the heart may faint,But who are we to make complaint,Or dare to plead, in times like these,The weakness of our love of ease?Thy will be done!
We take with solemn thankfulnessOur burden up, nor ask it less,And count it joy that even weMay suffer, serve, or wait for Thee,Whose will be done!
Though dim as yet in tint and line,We trace Thy picture's wise design,And thank Thee that our age suppliesIts dark relief of sacrifice.Thy will be done!
And if, in our unworthiness,Thy sacrificial wine we press;If from Thy ordeal's heated barsOur feet are seamed with crimson scars,Thy will be done!
If, for the age to come, this hourOf trial hath vicarious power,And, blest by Thee, our present pain,Be Liberty's eternal gain,Thy will be done!
Strike, Thou the Master, we Thy keys,The anthem of the destinies!The minor of Thy loftier strain,Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain,Thy will be done!1861.
A WORD FOR THE HOUR.THE firmament breaks up. In black eclipseLight after light goes out. One evil star,Luridly glaring through the smoke of war,As in the dream of the Apocalypse,Drags others down. Let us not weakly weepNor rashly threaten. Give us grace to keepOur faith and patience; wherefore should we leapOn one hand into fratricidal fight,Or, on the other, yield eternal right,Frame lies of law, and good and ill confound?What fear we? Safe on freedom's vantage-groundOur feet are planted: let us there remainIn unrevengeful calm, no means untriedWhich truth can sanction, no just claim denied,The sad spectators of a suicide!They break the links of Union: shall we lightThe fires of hell to weld anew the chainOn that red anvil where each blow is pain?Draw we not even now a freer breath,As from our shoulders falls a load of deathLoathsome as that the Tuscan's victim boreWhen keen with life to a dead horror bound...?