THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE.
By Joaquin Miller
EUROPE was never so entirely and terribly armed. Woe to him who sets fire to Europe now.—Moltke. Who was the bravest of the brave,
The bravest hero ever born?
'Twas One who braved a felon's grave,
Who dared to bear the scorn of scorn.
Nay, more than this—when sword was drawn,
And vengeance waited but His word,
He looked with pitying eyes upon
The scene, and said, “Put up thy sword!”
Could but one king be found to-day
As brave to do, as brave to say? “Put up thy sword” into the sheath!
“Put up thy sword,” “Put up thy sword!”
By Cedron's brook thus spake beneath
The olive trees our King and Lord,
Spake calm and king-like. Sword and stave
And torch and stormy men of death
Made clamor. Yet He spoke not, save
With loving word and patient breath,
“Put up thy sword” into the sheath!
The peaceful olive boughs beneath. Ye Christian kings, in Christ's dear name
I charge you live no more this lie.
“Put up thy sword!” The time they came
To bind and lead Him forth to die,
Behold this was His last command!
Yet ye dare cry to Christ in prayer,
With red and reeking sword in hand!
Ye dare do this as devils dare!
Ye liars, liars, great and small,
Ye cowards, cowards, cowards all! O God, but for one gallant czar,
One valiant king, one fearless queen!
Yea, there would be an end of war,
If but one could be heard or seen
To follow Christ; to bravely cry,
“Put up thy sword!” “Put up thy sword!”
And let us dare to live and die
As did command our King and Lord;
With sword commanded to its sheath,
The blessed olive boughs beneath.