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114. the holy war.

by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe.
And I saw heaven opened, and beheld a white horse and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns and he had a name written, that no mal knew, but he himself. And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean. --Rev. XIX. 11, 12, 14.

To the last battle set, throughout the earth!
     Not for vile lust of plunder or of power
The hosts of justice and eternal right
     Unfurl their banner in this solemn hour.

A King rides forth, whose eyes, as burning fire,
     Wither oppression in their dazzling flame;
And he hath sworn to right all human wrong,
     By the dread power of his mysterious name.

O'er all the earth resounds his trumpet-call.
     The nations, waking from their dreary night,
Are mustering in their ranks, and thronging on
     To hail the brightness of his rising light:

And all the armies that behind him ride,
     Come in white raiment, spotless as the snow;
“Freedom and Justice” is their battle-cry,
     And all the earth rejoices as they go.

Shoulder to shoulder ride the brother bands--
     Brave hearts and tender, with undaunted eye;
With manly patience ready to endure,
     With gallant daring resolute to die.

[90] They know not fear, for what have they to fear
     Who all have counted, and have all resigned,
And laid their lives a solemn offering down
     For laws, for truth, for freedom,--for mankind?

No boastful words are theirs, nor murderous zeal,
     Nor courage fed with the inebriate bowl;
But their brave hearts show in true touch and time
     The sober courage of the manly soul.

Ah! who can say how precious and how dear
     Those noble hearts, of thousand homes the light?
Yet wives and mothers, smiling through their tears,
     Gave them unmurmuring to the holy fight.

O brothers, banded for this sacred war!
     Keep your white garments spotless still and pure;
Be priestly warriors, hallowing the right--
     So shall your victory be swift and sure.

So shall the spotless King with whom ye ride,
     Make vile disorder from the earth to cease;
And Time's triumphant songs at last shall hail
     The victory of a true and righteous peace.

--The Independent.

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