MY COUNTRY by Robert Whitaker

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 16, 1902

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 28, No. 29.

MY COUNTRY.

By Robert Whitaker

[Robert Whitaker, in San Francisco Star.]

My country is the world: I count No son of man my foe, Whether the warm life-currents mount And mantle brows like snow, Or red or yellow, brown or black, The face that into mine looks back.

My native land is Mother Earth, And all men are my kin, Whether of rude or gentle birth, However steeped in sin; Or rich or poor, or great or small, I count them brothers, one and all.

My flag is the star-spangled sky, Woven without a seam, Where dawn and sunset colors lie, Fair as an angel's dream, The flag that still, unstained, untorn, Floats over all of mortal born.

My party is all human-kind, My platform, brotherhood: I count all men of honest mind Who work for human good, And for the hope that gleams afar, My comrades in this holy war.

My heroes are the great and good Of every age and clime, Too often mocked, misunderstood, And murdered in their time, But spite of ignorance and hate Known and exalted soon or late.

My country is the world: I scorn No lesser love than mine, But calmly wait that happy morn When all shall own this sign, And love of country, as of clan, Shall yield to world-wide love of man.