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PIPES OF FREEDOM

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Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 4, 1900

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 26, No. 27.

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PIPES OF FREEDOM.

By Clarence Hawkes

[Clarence Hawkes, in the "Springfield Republican."]
POOR LIBERTY, a nomad with a tent, Moving from land to land, half naked, spent With toil of travel and with hunger gaunt, Sheltered a day, then onward rudely sent!
O God, how many an Arnold Winkelried Must fall upon the spears, and, wounded, bleed, Yea, die for liberty, before the world Thy righteous mandate will forever heed!
O Christ, how many a deed of sacrifice Have brave men done between Thy day and this! And yet the world rolls on, all unconcerned, While brave men feel the sting of Judas' kiss.
Where patriots fall, by ruthless tyrant slain, The bloodroot grows to memorize the stain, And each small blade of grass for justice cries, This is the spot—behold it!—Cain! Cain! Cain!
Sin on our soul and blood upon our hands! Full-gorged and sate, the demon war-god stands, His heinous hoof upon the neck of truth, His path of fire and smoke across brave lands.
With fire and smoke man covers up the sky, By smoke and fire the trees and grasses die; Loved homesteads fall and cities sink to dust, And through the land resounds the orphan's cry.
Justice to all and favors unto none If we would hold the laurels we have won, Nor mold our country to the old world's creed That crushes thousands, to uphold the one.
When we shall own the brotherhood of men, Justice for all and not for one in ten, Freedom for all under a common law, Will war and discord cease, and not till then.
God give us peace! the hills and valleys cry, Christ give us rest from war! the zephyrs sigh; The brooks and birds are interceding, too— But only hideous cannon make reply.