Bloomington herald. [volume] (Bloomington, I. T. [Iowa]) 1840-1849, 1844-03-29
BLooMMGToN IOWA, friday MARCH %. 1914
bles Of the Redeemer's name, murmuringly
speaks the word Of bope-sJEsusv

bles Of the Redeemer's name, murmuringly
speaks the word Of hope-'JEsUsv
Who is the stranger, that stood between us
and the red dawn, few moments ago, that
now bows, prays, trembles while he eats the
bread and drinks the wine Of God2
Who is the ancient man with the wrihkled
face and the snowy hair2
Come back with me twenty eight years
through the pathway Of time, come back with
me to strange and stirring scene where our
question may find its answer.
wide city, with temples. mansions, domes,
wrapt in heavy pail Of smoke. groups Of
pale-faced citizens standing at the corners Of
the streets, the silence Of night resting on the
place. in broad day, while the thunder Of dis
tant cannon breaks on the air.
Now ask who is the stranger!
Ask the mother, secreting the babe. in the
dim hooks Of her home, on whom next to God
she relies for protection in this dread hour,
when the red hand Of British ravage, seems
already thrust before her eyes, :sk the aged
father, with his blooming and dark haired
daughter, kneelng at his feet in specifies a.
larm, while she clasps his knees, ask the grey
haired man, who shall stay the path of the
red coat hireling with his cry of Beauty and
Booty who shall rescue the pure girl from
the polluted grasp Of The ravisher!
The mother, the father speak one name Of
hope-one name of salvation ?
People of the wide city Of the South, trem-
bling while the thunder of British cannon is at
your gates, clustering at your street corners in
fear, hiding yourselves in the hooks and cham
bers Of your proud mansions. tell me. tell us,
who is your salvation in this hour! Who
leads your sons, your brothers, your fathers
on the march Of death without the city walls,
in this moment Of death and horror?
Again that name Of glory breaks in your
ears!
Bold backwoodsmen Of the West, speeding
through the fame and smoke, speeding over
the dead corses Of your Ted-coat foes, tell US,
who is yon tall warrior mounted on the white
war-horse pointing his aword around to the
death he dares, fearless in that hour Of horror,
undismayed, while around his horse's feet
scatters the shot and rains the deaih-hal!
The question passes from our lips and ye,
again-ha! name of glory, comes echoing
through the gloom of battle!
Who is the stranger of the auiumnal mead
ow, who is the ccmmunicant Of the Church Of
God, who was the salvation of the fair city Of
the South, the hope of woman, and the stay OF
man, the leader of the backw oodsmen and the
terror Of the British hirelings!
On the pillars OF oar country s history, size
by side with the immortal names of Washing
ton. Hancock, Adams and jefferson, eide by
side with Wayne, Lee and Gates, with MadI-
son, Marshall and Clay. an answer is record
ed in these letters of gold-the name ol--AN-
DREW JACKSON!
Go down 10 your grave. oh, mighty hero,
20 down TO your resting place of glory, while
in your ear rings the fare Of whole world,
on your venerable head Of snow falls the sun.
shine OF Gods own presence. go down to your
grave, full Of years, burdened with blessings
May the hand that would fling calu'nny on
your white hairs be palsied, may the tongue
that would assal your closing brow with Sian.
der or falsehood be SPECIFICS forever!
Honored by men, sanc,i6ed by history. smi.
led on by God, slowly and quietly 60 down TO
vour grave Of glory, mighty man Of the Her
mitage, while a whole nation shall wall Tor
the death Of the hero, the inmortal-AN-
DREW JACKSON.