When All Is Done

When all is done, and my last word is said,
And ye who loved me murmur, "He is
       dead,"
Let no one weep, for fear that I should know,
And sorrow too that ye should sorrow so.

When all is done and in the oozing clay,
Ye lay this cast-off hull of mine away,
Pray not for me, for, after long despair,
The quiet of the grave will be a prayer.

For I have suffered loss and grievous pain,
The hurts of hatred and the world's disdain,
And wounds so deep that love, well-tried and
       pure,
Had not the power to ease them or to cure.

When all is done, say not my day is o'er,
And that through night I seek a dimmer shore;
Say rather that my morn has just begun,--
I greet the dawn and not a setting sun,
          When all is done.

--Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872-1906

Beyond

It is an old belief
   That on some solemn shore,
Beyond the sphere of grief
   Dear friends shall meet once more.

Beyond the sphere of Time
   And sin and Fate's control,
Serene in changeless prime
   Of body and of soul.

That creed I fain would keep,
   That hope I'll ne'er forego;
Eternal be the sleep
   If not to waken so.

--John Gibson Lockhart, 1794-1854

from The Oarsmen

We have known sins and evils every day and death we have known;
They pass over our world like clouds mocking us with their transient lightning laughter.
Suddenly they have stopped, become a prodigy,
And men must stand before them saying:
"We do not fear you, O Monster! for we have lived every day by conquering you,
"And we die with the faith that Peace is true, and Good is true, and true is the eternal One!"

If the Deathless dwell not in the heart of death,
If glad wisdom bloom not bursting the sheath of sorrow,
If sin do not die of its own revealment,
If pride break not under its load of decorations,
Then whence comes the hope that drives these men from their homes like stars rushing to
       their death in the morning light?
Shall the value of the martyrs' blood and mothers' tears be utterly lost in the dust of the earth,
       not buying Heaven with their price?
And when Man bursts his mortal bounds, is not the Boundless revealed that moment?

--Rabindranath Tagore, 1861-1941

Friends Beyond

I cannot think of them as dead,
  Who walk with me no more;
Along the path of life I tread--
  They have but gone before.

The Father's House is mansioned fair,
  Beyond my vision dim;
All souls are His, and here or there
  Are living unto Him.

And still their silent ministry
  Within my heart hath place,
As when on earth they walked with me,
  And met me face to face.

Their lives are made forever mine;
  What they to me have been
Hath left henceforth its seal and sign
  Engraven deep within.

Mine are they by an ownership
  Nor time nor death can free;
For God hath given to love to keep
  Its own eternally.

--Frederick L. Hosmer, 1840-1929

from SNOW-BOUND

And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
  Am I not richer than of old?
Safe in thy immortality,
  What change can reach the wealth I hold?
What chance can mar the pearl and gold
  Thy love hath left in trust for me?

And while in life's long afternoon,
  Where cool and long the shadows grow,
I walk to meet the night that soon
  Shall shape and shadow overflow,
I cannot feel that thou art far,
  Since near at need the angels are;

And when the sunset gates unbar,
  Shall I not see thee waiting stand,
And, white against the evening star,
  The welcome of thy beckoning hand?

--John Greenleaf Whittier, 1807-1892

A Thought for a Lonely Death-Bed

If God compel thee to this destiny,
To die alone, with none beside thy bed
To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said,
And mark with tears the pulses ebb from
       thee,--
Pray then alone, "O Christ, come tenderly!
By thy forsaken Sonship in the red
Drear wine-press,--by the wilderness
       outspread,--
And the lone garden where thine agony
Fell bloody from thy brow,--by all of those
Permitted desolations, comfort mine!
No earthly friend being near me, interpose
No deathly angel 'twixt my face and thine,
But stoop thyself to gather my life's rose,
And smile away my mortal to Divine!"

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806-1861

The World is One

The world is one; we cannot live apart,
  To earth's remotest races we are kin;
God made the generations of one blood;
  Man's separation is a sign of sin.

What though we solve the secret of the stars,
  Or from the vibrant ether pluck a song,
Can this for all man's tyranny atone
  While Mercy weeps and waits and suffers
     long?

Put up the sword, its day of anguish past;
  Disarm the forts, and then , the war-flags
     furled,
Forever keep the air without frontiers,
  The great, free, friendly highway of the
     world.

So that at last to rapture men may come,
  And hear again the music of the spheres,
And stand erect, illumined, radiant, free,
  The travail and the triumph of the years.

--Hinton White

Of One Blood Hath God Created

Of one blood hath God created
Every kindred, tribe and tongue;
His is every fane and altar,
Though man's empire be far-flung;
Even though some flout the others,
Underneath are they blood-brothers;
And shall learn, some crucial day,
How to walk a common way.

God of all the warring peoples,
Still art Thou the God of Peace;
Love art Thou, but Love in Sorrow,
Wounded until wars shall cease;
Until Right shall win, our burden
Thou, too, bearest; 'tis the guerdon
Of that dauntless Saviour-hood
Which shall rear the common good.

Keep before us, clear, the vision
Of Thy Holy common-wealth;
Guide us, Thou, in each decision;
Save us from the subtle stealth
Which would fill our souls this hour
With race-hatred, lust of power,
Alienate our life from Thee
And Thy Kingdom, yet to be.

May we, with the Man of Sorrows,
Tread the dangerous path of duty;
Seeking not our own, but serving,
May we grasp, O Lord, the beauty
Of Thy Holiness, wherever
Flames a Love that faileth never,
Burning out the waste and dross,
Saving men from shame and loss.

Grant to us a sense of presence:
Make us all aware of Thee;
May Thy Holy Love unite us
In the bond that sets men free--
Free to understand each other,
Free to claim each as his brother,
Free to build in unity,
Free, O God, yet bound to Thee.

--Henry B. Robins

The Pact

They have no pact to sign--our peaceful dead;
  Pacts are for trembling hands and heads
    grown gray.
Ten million graves record what youth has
    said,
  And cannot now un-say.

They have no pact to sign--our quiet dead
  Whose eyes in that eternal peace are
    drowned.
Age doubts and wakes, and asks if night be
    fled;
  But youth sleeps sound.

They have no pact to sign--our faithful dead.
  Theirs was a deeper pledge, unseen,
    unheard,
Sealed in the dark; not written; sealed with
    red;
  And they will keep their word.

They have no pact to sign--our happy dead.
  But if, O God, if WE should sign in vain,
With dreadful eyes, out of each narrow bed,
  Our dead will rise again.

--Alfred Noyes

In Our Time

No holy pointer, no unchanging Light
  Where Evil wars with Virtue, foul with fair,
Dusk with the dawn--a world of black and white
  Mixing itself into a great despair?

When shall this strife between the Nations cease? . . .
  During our pilgrimage this side the tomb
Life shall be storm, the world shall know not peace
  Until within all hearts Christ finds a home!

--Huw Menai

The Young Dead Soldiers

The young dead soldiers do not speak.
Nevertheless they are heard in the still
     houses.
(Who has not heard them?)

They have a silence that speaks for them at
      night
And when the clock counts.

They say,
We were young. We have died. Remember us.

They say,
We have done what we could
But until it is finished it is not done.

They say,
We have given our lives
But until it is finished no one can know what
     our lives gave.

They say,
Our deaths are not ours,
They are yours,
They will mean what you make them.

They say,
Whether our lives and our deaths were for
     peace and a new hope
Or for nothing
We cannot say.
It is you who must say this.

They say,
We leave you our deaths,
Give them their meaning,
Give them an end to the war and a true peace,
Give them a victory that ends the war and
     a peace afterwards,
Give them their meaning.

We were young, they say,
We have died.
Remember us.

--Archibald MacLeish

Faith of Our Fathers

Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there, and to
our fathers who have gone on before...


Faith of our fathers! living still In spite of dungeon,
fire and sword: O how our hearts beat high with joy
Whene'er we hear that glorious word!

Faith of our fathers, holy faith! We will be true to thee
till death!

Our fathers, chained in prisons dark, Were still in heart
and conscience free: How sweet would be their children's
fate, If they like them could die for thee!

Faith of our fathers, holy faith! We will be true to thee
till death!

Faith of our fathers! we will strive To win all nations
unto thee, And thro' the truth that comes from God,
Mankind shall then be truly free.

Faith of our fathers, holy faith! We will be true to thee
till death!

Faith of our fathers! we will love Both friend and foe in
all our strife: And preach thee too as love knows how,
By kindly words and virtuous life:

Faith of our fathers, holy faith! We will be true to thee
till death!

--Frederick W. Faber

Create Great Peace

Would you end war?
Create great Peace. . . .
The peace that demands all of a man,
His love, his life, his veriest self;
Plunge him into the smelting fires of a work that becomes his child. . . .

Give him a hard Peace: a Peace of discipline and justice . . .
Kindle him with vision, invite him to joy and adventure:
Set him to work, not to create things
But to create men:
Yea, himself.

Go search your heart, America. . . .
Turn from the machine to man,
Build, while there is yet time, a creative Peace . . .
While there is yet time! . . .
For if you reject great Peace,
As surely as vile living brings disease,
So surely will your selfishness bring war.

--James Oppenheim, 1882-1932

A Hymn of Peace

The Son of God goes forth for Peace,
Our Father's love to show;
From war and woe He brings release,
O, who with Him will go?
He strikes the fetters from the slave,
Man's mind and heart makes free;
And sends His messengers to save
O'er every land and sea!

The Son of God goes forth for Peace,
That men like brothers live,
And all desire the other's good,
And other's sin forgive.
He turns our spears to pruning hooks,
Our swords to ploughshares warm,
And war no more its death-blast brings,
Nor men their brothers harm!

The Son of God goes forth for Peace,
Nor lands nor pow'r to gain;
He seeks to serve, to love, to lift,--
Who follows in His train?
A glorious band, in every age.
In spite of scorn and pain,
True sons of God, His peace have made;
Who follows in their train?

Now let the world to Peace be won,
And every hatred slain;
Let force and greed be overcome
And love supreme remain!
Let justice rule in all the earth,
And mercy while we live,
Lest we--forgiven much--forget
Our brother to forgive!

We send our love to every land--
True neighbors would we be;
And pray God's Peace to reign in them,
Where'er their homeland be!
O God, to us may grace be given,
Who bear the dear Christ's name,
To live at peace with every man,
And thus our Christ acclaim!

--Ernest Bourner Allen

The Prince of Peace

The Prince of Peace His banner spreads,
His wayward folk to lead
From war's embattled hates and dreads,
Its bulwarked ire and greed.
O marshal us, the sons of sires
Who braved the cannon's roar,
To venture all that peace requires
As they dared death for war.

Lead on, O Christ! That haunting song
No centuries can dim,
Which long ago the heavenly throng
Sang over Bethlehem.
Cast down our rancor, fear, and pride,
Exalt goodwill again!
Our worship doth Thy name deride,
Bring we not peace to men.

Thy pardon, Lord, for war's dark shame,
Its death-strewn, bloody fields!
Yet thanks to Thee for souls aflame
Who dared with swords and shields;
O Christ, who died to give men life,
Bring that victorious hour,
When man shall use for peace, not strife,
His valor, skill, and power.

Cleanse all our hearts from our disgrace--
We love not world, but clan!
Make clear our eyes to see our race
One family of man.
Rend Thou our little temple veils
That cloak the truth divine,
Until Thy mighty word prevails,
That cries, "All souls are mine."

--Harry Emerson Fosdick

Let Us Have Peace

The earth is weary of our foolish wars.
Her hills and shores were shaped for lovely
       things,
Yet all our years are spent in bickerings
   Beneath the astonished stars.

April by April laden with beauty comes,
Autumn by Autumn turns our toil to gain,
But hand at sword hilt, still we start and
      strain
   To catch the beat of drums.

Knowledge to knowledge adding, skill to skill,
We strive for others' good as for our own--
And then, like cavemen snarling with a bone,
    We turn and rend and kill. . . . .

With life so fair, and all too short a lease
Upon our special star! Nay, love and trust,
Not blood and thunder shall redeem our dust.
     Let us have peace!

--Nancy Byrd Turner

The Dawn of Peace

Yes--"on our brows we feel the breath
  Of dawn," though in the night we wait!
An arrow is in the heart of Death,
  A God is at the doors of Fate!
The Spirit that moved upon the Deep
  Is moving through the minds of men:
The nations feel it in their sleep,
  A change has touched their dreams again.

Dreams are they? But ye cannot stay them,
  Or thrust the dawn back for one hour!
Truth, Love, and Justice, if ye slay them,
  Return with more than earthly power:
Strive, if ye will, to seal the fountains
  That send the Spring thro' leaf and spray:
Drive back the sun from the Eastern
    mountains,
  Then--bid this mightier movement stay.

It is the Dawn! The Dawn! The nations
  From East to West have heard a cry,--
Though all earth's blood-red generations
  By hate and slaughter climbed thus high,
Here--on this height--still to aspire,
  One only path remains untrod,
One path of love and peace climbs higher.
  Make straight that highway for our God.

--Alfred Noyes

The Prophecy

There's a voice on the wind of the world
speaking dreams from the ancient books:
they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruninghooks.

Have you heard the voice in the darkness,
coming up from the foggy past?
Do you hear, you winged warriors,
over the cyclonic blast
of motors, and the shriek of the bombs as
     they fall?
Did you hear it, you beautiful sons,
you dead of Caen and Tarawa,
as you fell in the flash of the guns?

You can hear it, earth, you can hear it
in the crackle of cities that burn,
in the lancing cry of the children,
in the silence of those who will never return.

There's a voice on the wind of the world,
beating loud on the uttermost shore:
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.

There's a voice on the wind of the world,
the voice long-crushed.
Woe to the waters, the dust and the cloud,
if the voice be hushed!

--Lon Woodrum

O God Of Field And City

O God of field and city,
  O Lord of shore and sea,
Behold us in Thy pity
  Lift naked hands to Thee.
Our swords and spears are shattered,
  Our walls of stone down-thrust,
Our reeking altars scattered
  And trodden in the dust.

O God of law unbroken,
  O Lord of justice done,
Thine awful word is spoken
  From sun to flaming sun:
We hate and we are hated,
  We slay, and lo, are slain;
We feed and still unsated
  We hunt our prey again.

O God of mercy tender,
  O Lord of love most free,
Forgive as we surrender
  Our wayward wills to Thee.
Absolve our fell allegiance
  To captain and to king;
Receive in full obedience
  The chastened hearts we bring.

--John Haynes Holmes

Prayer For Peace

O God, whose will is life and peace
  For all the sons of men,
Let not our human hates release
  The sword's dread power again.
Forgive our narrowness of mind;
  Destroy false pride, we plead:
Deliver us and all mankind
  From selfishness and greed.

O God, whose ways shall lead to peace,
  Enlighten us, we pray;
Dispel our darkness and increase
  The light along our way.
Illumine those who lead the lands
  That they may make at length
The laws of right to guide the hands
  That wield the nations' strength.

O God, who callest us to peace,
  We join with everyone
Who does his part that wars may cease
  And justice may be done.
Enable us to take the way
  The Prince of Peace hath trod;
Create the will to build each day
  The family of God.

--Rolland W. Schloerb

In Flanders Now

  Written at the close of World War I, in answer to
Colonel McCrae's well-known poem. "In Flanders
Now" was used at the unveiling of the tomb of the
Unknown Soldier in Washington. Printed on a card
with the Belgium National Anthem and sold by the
Federation of Women's Clubs, a million dollars were
raised and used for the restoration of the Louvain
Library. As we read the poem now in the aftermath
of another world war, it awakens many conflicting
emotions that search our hearts.

We have kept faith, ye Flanders' dead,
  Sleep well beneath those poppies red
That mark your place.
The torch your dying hands did throw,
  We've held it high before the foe,
And answered bitter blow for blow,
  In Flanders fields.

And where your heroes' blood was spilled,
  The guns are now forever stilled
And silent grown.
There is no moaning of the slain,
  There is no cry of tortured pain,
And blood will never flow again,
  In Flanders fields.

Forever holy in our sight
  Shall be those crosses gleaming white,
That guard your sleep.
  Rest you in peace, the task is done,
The fight you left us we have won,
  And Peace on Earth has just begun,
  In Flanders now.

--Edna Jaques

Work; [van Dyke]

Let me but do my work from day to day
  In field or forest, at the desk or loom,
  In roaring market-place or tranquil room;
Let me but find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
  "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;
  Of all who live, I am the one by whom
This work can best be done in the right way."

Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,
  To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;
  Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,
And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall
At eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work is best.

--Henry van Dyke; 1852-1933

The Ship of State

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union! strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
'Tis of the wave, and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith, triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee,--are all with thee!

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807-1882

Our Country

To all who hope for Freedom's gleam
  Across the warring years,
Who offer life to build a dream
  In laughter or in tears,
To all who toil, unmarked, unknown,
  By city, field or sea,
I give my heart, I reach my hand,
A common hope, a common land
  Is made of you and me.

For we have loved her summer dawns
  Beyond the misty hill,
And we have shared her toil, her fruit
  Of farm and shop and mill.
Our weaknesses have made her shame,
  Our strength has built her powers,
And we have hoped and we have striven
That to her children might be given
  A fairer world than ours.

We dreamed to hold her safe, apart
  From strife; the dream was vain.
Her heart is now earth's bleeding heart,
  She shares the whole earth's pain.
To men oppressed in all the lands
  One flashing hope has gone,
One vision wide as earth appears,
We seek, across the warring years,
  The gray world's golden dawn.

--Anna Louise Strong