A Long Journey
I recently discovered this poem by Whittier, written in 1862 as America was at war with itself over the issue of slavery. It reminded me of how far we have come, yet the road is and has been one riddled with strife, setbacks and some (although my opinion, far too few) successes. It feels especially true today as the nation is once again at war with itself, deeply divided along racial lines.
John Greenleaf Whittier ©Joseph E. Baker
Abolition of Slavery in the District of Columbia, 1862
Note: Formatting of this piece has been changed due to space issues)
When first I saw our banner wave Above the nation's council-hall, I heard beneath its marble wall The clanking fetters of the slave! In the foul market-place I stood, and saw the Christian mother sold, and childhood with its locks of gold, blue-eyed and fair with Saxon blood.I shut my eyes, I held my breath, and, smothering down the wrath and shame that set my Northern blood aflame, stood silent, where to speak was death. Beside me gloomed the prison-cell where wasted one in slow decline for uttering simple words of mine, and loving freedom all too well. The flag that floated from the dome flapped menace in the morning air; I stood a perilled stranger where the human broker made his home. For crime was virtue: Gown and Sword and Law their threefold sanction gave, and to the quarry of the slave went hawking with our symbol-bird. On the oppressor's side was power; and yet I knew that every wrong, however old, however strong, but waited God's avenging hour.I knew that truth would crush the lie, somehow, some time, the end would be; yet scarcely dared I hope to see the triumph with my mortal eye. But now I see it! In the sun a free flag floats from yonder dome, and at the nation's hearth and home the justice long delayed is done. Not as we hoped, in calm of prayer, the message of deliverance comes, but heralded by roll of drums on waves of battle-troubled air! Midst sounds that madden and appall, the song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew ! The harp of David melting through the demon-agonies of Saul!Not as we hoped; but what are we? Above our broken dreams and plans God lays, with wiser hand than man's, The corner-stones of liberty. I cavil not with Him: the voice that freedom's blessed gospel tells is sweet to me as silver bells, Rejoicing! yea, I will rejoice! Dear friends still toiling in the sun; ye dearer ones who, gone before, are watching from the eternal shore the slow work by your hands begun, Rejoice with me! The chastening rod blossoms with love; the furnace heat grows cool beneath His blessed feet whose form is as the Son of God!Rejoice! Our Marah's bitter springs are sweetened; on our ground of grief rise day by day in strong relief the prophecies of better things. Rejoice in hope! The day and night are one with God, and one with them who see by faith the cloudy hem of Judgment fringed with Mercy's light! Midst sounds that madden and appall, the song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew! The harp of David melting through the demon-agonies of Saul! Not as we hoped; but what are we? Above our broken dreams and plans God lays, with wiser hand than man's, the corner-stones of liberty. I cavil not with Him: the voice that freedom's blessed gospel tells is sweet to me as silver bells, rejoicing! yea, I will rejoice!Dear friends still toiling in the sun; ye dearer ones who, gone before, are watching from the eternal shore the slow work by your hands begun, rejoice with me! The chastening rod blossoms with love; the furnace heat grows cool beneath His blessed feet whose form is as the Son of God! Rejoice! Our Marah's bitter springs are sweetened; on our ground of grief rise day by day in strong relief the prophecies of better things. Rejoice in hope! The day and night are one with God, and one with them who see by faith the cloudy hem of Judgment fringed with Mercy's light!On May 22, 1862, the New York Times published an article taken from the London Times, taking note of America’s long overdue entry into its “Second Revolution”. The article speaks volumes to me because we appear to be, once again, at war with ourselves and we need to heed the mistakes of the past. It is to say the least discouraging that we find ourselves in this battle, but it is a war we must win. We are not truly America if we are not all treated equally and fairly. May God have mercy on us.
© The New York Times, 22 May 1862, p.2, column 5 (from The London Times)
