When the full-throated people of the air,

Harmonious preachers of the sweets of love,

That midway range, as half at home with heaven,

Are quiring, with a heartiness of joy

That the high tide of song o’erbrims the grove,

And far adown the meadow runs to waste;

How would the soul, there floating, loathe to mark

Sudden contention; sharp, discordant screams,

From throats whose single duty is a song!

Not with less sure revolting—ah! far more!

Curdles the blood when Christian brothers strive,

And prostitute to wordy war the lips

Commissioned to dispense ‘good will to man;’

And soothe the world with spoken kindness, soft,

And full of melody as song of birds.

O, sad betrayal of the highest trust!

Heralds of peace—to blow the trump of strife:

Envoys of charity—to sow the tares

Of hatred in a soil prepared for love.

Is this a time for soldiers of the cross

To point their weapons, each at other’s breast,

When the great Enemy, the common Foe,

Though baffled, unsubdued, lays ever wait

For some unguarded pass, to cheat the walls

Not all his dread artillery could breach?

How is each lunge, and ward, of tart reproof,

And bitter repartee—painful to friends—

By th’ Adversary hailed with general yell

Of triumph, or derision! O, my friends!

Believe me, lines of loving charity

Dishearten enemies, encourage friends,And woo enlistment to your ranks, more sure

Than the best weapon of the readiest wit,

Whose point is venomed with the gall of scorn.

How wiser then, forbearing bitterness

At points of polity, or shades of faith

That different show to different-seeing eyes,

To shun perplexing doctrines which th’ Allwise

Has willed obscure, and imitate His life;

His, the meek Founder of our faith, who sowed

His earthly way with blessings as with seed:

Bearing, forbearing, ever rendering good;

The Counsellor, the Comforter, the Friend:

How ope soe’er His word to various sense,

His life is plain; and all that life was love:

Be this our guide, we cannot widely stray.