CONFESSIONAL by Howard S. Taylor

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

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

CONFESSIONAL.

By Howard S. Taylor

[Dr. Howard S. Taylor, in the "Chicago Times-Herald."]

God of our sires who hither fled Across a strange and stormy sea, Who suffered exile, toiled and bled, To make themselves and children free; God of the pilgrims, smite us not. We have forgot! We have forgot!

How runs the story? Far away We hear the epoch-opening gun Fired by our minute men at bay Upon the green at Lexington; But, far and faint, we heed it not. Lord God of hosts, we have forgot!

The Bill of Rights our fathers signed And sealed with shot and saber stroke, Their just appeal to all mankind, Their prayers sent up through battle smoke, Their faith humane, without a blot. Lord Christ, forgive; we have forgot!

Ah, if where sunset islands lie, Thy brave, brown men their blood shall spill, Shall strike for liberty and die, Slain by the heirs of Bunker Hill, Thou wilt remember, wilt Thou not? Though we, Thy people, have forgot!

We have forgot! A Roman lust Profanes our ancient holy things; We trample justice in the dust, We have the rabies of the kings— The scarlet rage of gun and sword. Have mercy on Thy people, Lord! Amen.