  “If ye love me, keep my commandments.”—Jesus. Truth hath no need of outward sign, To hold her calm, resistless sway— No symbol, howsoe’er divine, Can rule the conscience of to-day. And he who, scorning praise or blame, Stays not to kneel before the cross, But serves the Truth through flood and flame, Shall win the crown, nor suffer loss. Back to the old heroic Past, With reverent hearts, our gaze we turn— From souls proved faithful to the last, A lesson for to-day we learn. Once more, as from a master’s hand, Upon life’s canvass glows the scene— Once more behold that little band Of valiant men on Salem green. Had they not left the friends of youth, Their childhood’s home, their fathers’ graves, That they might worship God in truth, And be no more a tyrant’s slaves? Still followed fast the royal wrath; And as they marched with measured tread, Casting its shadow o’er their path, The tyrant’s flag waved over head. “Halt!” said the brave John Endicott, With knitted brow and eyes aflame; “Halt!—Forward! Ensign Davenport! Down with that flag! in God’s high name!” Down drooped the flag, whose folds of blood Seemed like the ParcÆ’s web of fate, Whereon the cross so long had stood For tyranny in Church and State. He raised his hand, and sternly tore The red cross from its field of blue; Then nerved with fire his arm upbore, And held the fragment full in view. “Now by the homage that we pay To God the Father, God the Son, May righteous Heaven approve this day The deed that my right hand hath done. “To Him whose law hath all sufficed, Be power and glory evermore, But this cursed sign of Anti-Christ Shall not profane this hallowed shore.” One moment—and a hush like death— Then flashed the fire from every eye, And like the tempest’s sudden breath, A shout tumultuous rent the sky. Those ranks of stern, heroic men, Who asked no favor, knew no fear, Could “beard the lion in his den,” When duty made the pathway clear, There in the howling wilderness, In holy triumph did they sing, “Christ is our refuge in distress, The Lord of Hosts alone is King.” Linked, by the lengthening years of time, To all that grand heroic past, The mantle of their faith sublime Is on this generation cast. Whene’er the cross no longer stands For freedom, faith, and love divine, Men tear it down with willing hands, And worship God without the sign. John Endicott! John Endicott! Thine earthly victory is won, But valiant still, and swerving not, Thy steadfast soul “is marching on.” Like thee we would be brave and true, And fearless in the faith abide, That souls who nobly dare and do, Have God and Heaven upon their side. |
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