  "May those at war soon lay down the sword and "PUT up thy sword." So Peter found Rebuke upon his weapon's aid, The High Priest's servant of his wound Was healed, and the disciple's blade Rebidden to its scabbard. See, O World, the lovely evidence— True lesson of Gethsemane— That Heaven on Earth disdained defence. For still the hostile ages pass, And force may strive for right, but know, You cannot cut at Caiaphas But the hired servant bears the blow; And still the apostle, he who dies In thought to stem Christ's Passion, falls Short of his fervour and denies His Master in the High Priest's halls ... Forth leaps the sword upon the same Innocent pretexts—little homes Childhood and womanhood wronged, the Name Of this rebuking Christ: hence comes A votive fury that begins All conflicts, and the justest pride Is first the stalking-horse of sins And then deserted and denied. Despots, diplomatists, dark trades Set men unceasingly at strife, Usurp the war-cries of crusades, Divert each God-devoted life; Never, Oh never yet, will war, Howe'er so poisonous root and stem, Lack the assurance of a star Outdazzling His of Bethlehem Till Truth and Innocence reprove Their ghastly champions with His word— Who chid the violence even of love— "Put up thy sword." "Put up thy sword." |
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