PUT UP THY SWORD by Charles Miles Snow

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Mar 19, 1896

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 22, No. 12.

PUT UP THY SWORD.

By Charles Miles Snow

BY CHARLES MILES SNOW.

How oft poor man on stilted pride, In worldly wisdom wise, Seeks by a tower of human woe To scale the bending skies! How often in a godly zeal To work the will of God Vain man has slain his fellow-man And on God's image trod!

Go, learned man, to Olivet, And hear thy Maker's word; Cast down thy wisdom to the earth, And let his voice be heard. Why talk of heaven here below, And torture while you pray, Because your victim chooses not The counsel of your way?

O, that proud man could see the wrong, The burning shamefulness, Of foisting on his fellow-man A course so conscienceless! Canst think that thou the Pattern art, Thy creed a turner's mill Where God designs to fashion souls According to his will?

Think well, O error-brooding man, Filled with all frailties, Can thy weak mind so easy scan All that thy Maker's is? The rising sun's reflected rays Oft shine from stagnant pools; Some view them from the clearer deep, And still they are not fools.

The heavenly eye-salve may have made That pilgrim's vision keen, So that his eyes are viewing now What thine have never seen. Think not to quench with flame or knout Or iron-shackled hand The light of God's undying love That shines from Canaan's land.

Wouldst thou like Peter smite for God With human-fashioned brand? “Put up thy sword into its sheath;” Christ spurns the bloody hand. Ye who oppress, in zeal for God, This goodly lesson take: Your Lord not only censures you But heals the hurt you make.