Your ShelfYour Projects

THE OUTLOOK

7%

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Dec 26, 1900

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 26, No. 52.

Read the full edition

THE OUTLOOK

"LO, IS IT PEACE?"

[Fred T. Elkin, in the "Denver News."]
A GRIM, foreboding silence strains the earth, A rag of smoldering red usurps the sky, As, swaddled with the feuds that saw his birth, Sinks to his bier the blood-drunk century. Give the grand pagan Christian burial, Tho peace knew not his heart or ritual.
From continents and isles the cry is heard, "Peace! give us peace!" yet girded hips men smite, The sword is slipped to leap forth at a word, The mote of jealousy inflames the sight; Behold earth's warlike armaments increase, As tho the nation's quarrel was with peace.
O Peace, for thee and thine the law is out; Speed thee, spread pinion to thy natal bower; Red death exulteth in the war lord's shout; License and riot rend the captured hour; Heed not the charmer's voice that calleth thee, That thy bright plumage might cloak perfidy!
Forgotten as a dream is Nazareth, The natal song of Bethlehem is still; Mankind reels with the reek of Odin's breath, Valhalla's lushing harpies work their will. Brain-seethe and battle-lust with bloody mist Have hid the gentle countenance of Christ.
What right is there to war? What martial brood May justly wrest from neighbor one parterre, Or curse its children with the price of blood, Or plant a sorrow where the world is fair? O man, thou almost as the angels born, How thou hast fallen since creation's morn!
The prophets point the finger through the years, Still, still at guilty greed they hurl the ban; The Tishbite frets a monarch's heart with fears, A Nathan thunders, "Lo, thou art the man!" "Thou shalt not covet," saith the Holy One— Earth's serpent tongues reply, "Thy will be done."
To eminence attained, by brutal might, Kingdoms have wreaked their laws and gods on men, Yet all the ills they wrought on stricken right, With tenfold vengeance have returned to them. The pendulum of power erratic swings, And slaves find laughter in the pride of kings.
What of the tiger tyranny that lapped The life stream of its young across the seas? What of the precious history that wrapped Castile's proud heart with golden memories? The pride of centuries hath run its length, And fishes mock at steeled and steaming strength.
Rome died of greatness; for expansion gave Her thinning blood to taint; her sons fell fast; She could not drape a toga on a slave And make a Roman—birth will "out" at last. How could she hope to stay the northern hates, With naught but hireling swords to guard her gates?
O, heed the lesson of the crumbled past, Learn wisdom from the moulder of its fame, How, conscience sleeping, freedom slept at last, And nations woke to dumb dust-biting shame! Learn that man's mutability and guile Etched satire in the Sphinx's stony smile.
Columbia! that from throes of battle brunt, Woke to a life of glorious liberty, The crisis that thy conscience doth confront Bears weal or woe for all humanity. Sarcastic rings the challenge from the sea, "Can liberty exist not but in thee?"