  America! Our home, our native land! The joy of it—the rapture! when we say— We who are freemen and can understand— This is our heritage—the U. S. A.! Hewn from the virgin forests by our sires, And launched by giants capable and true, Our Ship of State was manned, when Freedom's fires Were beacon lights, by sturdy, godly crew,— And so hath kept, steered by the Guiding Star Of Faith, her steadfast course, thru shoal or blast, Aloof from sirens luring from afar, With Stars and Stripes still waving at the mast. Here in our Land, where Plenty hath its store, Where fertile fields teem with abundant grain, Hunger ne'er casts its shadow on the door, And Famine hath no lodge on hill or plain. In truth doth Luxury with Plenty vie To fill our laps with all the luscious things That Nature doth provide—loath to deny The satisfaction that such bounty brings. To us was Freedom's heritage bequeathed To have and hold while life and pride remain: And so our sword must ever be unsheathed To guard this priceless boon from hurt or stain— So that the war-worn hosts in Europe's maze, Who fight against the Despot's ruthless spear, May see the light of Liberty ablaze, Diffusing matchless splendor over here; And, friendly beacon, be to them a sign And Bow of Promise, in their dismal sky, The Light of Hope eternally to shine In God's resplendent galaxy on High. But grim starvation, at the board, presides Across the seas, where once the farmsteads poured Autumnal wealth—and Desolation rides Rough shod along where tramped the Prussian horde. No life remains: the fields are stark and sere; The forests, leaf and branch and root, are fled; The flowers lie trampled on the soldier's bier: Destroyed are e'en the shelters of the dead. The gardens that held plenty in their wombs Are stripped and barren as the sands of Dearth, And now, instead, keep vigil o'er the tombs Of demigods, redeemers of the Earth. The vineyards where the fragrant fruitage hung To cheer the peaceful peasant in his toil Are desolate where Death his shroud has flung Upon the breadth of France's sacred soil. Wrecked are the homesteads: buzzard broods abound Where shell-holes gape, and heaps of carnage rise Above the naked bosom of the ground, Mutely denying guilt, in sacrifice. Still with the jackal at her wounds doth France Fight on unmindful of her pains, and lo! We hear her call and, seizing shield and lance, Crusader-like, to her assistance go. Her cause is just: we make her Cause our own! For Liberty doth in the balance swing, And we must guard her, if we fight alone To rid the world of this malignant Thing That, in the guise of Kultur, hides its hoofs And horns, its tail and spear and hideous face, And, as a pious priest, on Moslem roofs, Extols itself, usurping Allah's place. What blasphemy! Obsessed to germinate Its propaganda, its infernal cult; Condoning Cain's offense, instilling hate, It strikes with poison, dirk and catapult Against the precepts of the Prince of Peace; Against the Conscience of the Universe. But hatred, lust and war will never cease Until God's Sword destroys this monstrous curse. Audaciously the Priests of Kultur strive To spread their doctrine, but the graven god Against the Living Christ cannot survive, And in His time will scourged be with His rod. And so our Ship of State to battle hastes, All sails a-drawing, sheets secure and taut, Manned by a stalwart crew, stripped to the waists, Inspired by battles that our fathers fought. In port at last whence Lafayette once sailed To aid our fight that made Britannia halt, They take their stand where Frenchmen never failed To hold the Verdun forts against assault. A mighty effort this! To send our force Three thousand miles, thru shark-infested sea, Beneath dark skies where vultures lay their course, To face the foe and ransom Liberty, Thru sacrificial offering of our sons; To arm and clothe five million men, and then Build, to convey and feed them, countless tons Of mighty vessels—transports, merchantmen; To furnish, in addition, vast supplies To allied Powers whose Cause we have embraced, To hearten them—to strengthen friendly ties And stay the hand that layeth Europe waste. A task indeed! But let it not be thought By foemen or by those whom we befriend That Liberty our trust, so dearly bought, Will not be guarded to the very end. Tho Hercules the Strong should heave in sight And challenge us to tests of thews and nerve, We'd enter the arena in our might And win new honors for the Land we serve; For Antaeus and all the myths of old 'Gainst whom the supermen of yore engaged, Were never half so mighty, half so bold As peaceful freemen, righteously enraged: And all the modern Bullies who presume To dominate the world against the Right, Must see their day-dreams doomed to blackest gloom When Truth prevails against the Imps of Night. So let us fabricate in forge and mill; So let us plant and nurture grain and seed; So let us labor and conserve until There be an end to Kultur's cruel creed. Each one of us must fight or toil or save; Co-ordination be our battle song; Hardships endure and gravest dangers brave If we would victors be and right the wrong. God's ways to mortal eyes are not revealed, But Faith our guidance is thru War's grim task, And with His help the |
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