Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1847-02-19
POETRY.
From the ". Y. Tribune.
The Great RefOrmer.
BY THOMAS L. HARRIS.

FROM The workbench Of the carver, where in
honest toll He bent;
From the PEASANTS low-eaved cottage, rich
with virtue and content;
From the forest where with Nature He held
converse deep and high;
From the mountain where His spirit rose 10
grandeur like the sky
From the desert Of temptation, where He
spurned the kingly name,
saying "Get thee from me, Satan J" to the
gold, and ease, and fame;
with a calm and steadfast courage He went
out into the storm,
To a life of humble goodness, to a Mission
Of Reform
His garb of homely russell did veil, but not
conceal
A form wherein Perfection had set its living
seal; .
That form Of perfect beauty around a spirit
shone
Pure as the Summer dew-drcp, yet brilliant
as the Sun;
The universe Of wisdom all mirrored was
therein,
AS clouds, and stars and mountains shine
through the Oceans brim;
And all its mighty pulses with Love were
overlowed-
Love boundless as Creation and infinite as
God
His words like livirg light-beams went forth
with arrowy aim,
kindling Mans dormant powers to a strong,
volcanic hame;
Spreading a golden sunrise DER the dark.
chaotic Night;
housing the weak and chain-worn to a con-
flict for the Right;
Shaking the throne and prison as the earth
quake rocks a wall,
Whelming the priestly affairs in the ruin of
their fall;
Waking great Human Nature, as the sto. ms
the Ocean move,
10 redeem its glorious birthright of Unity
and Love.
His deeds, that like His spirit, were merci-
fully strong,
Were a protest against Evil and a conflict
with the Wrong.
lie clasped the lonely o%utcast, with a plying
love Divine,
While he tore from him the letters and the
leper-rags of Crime;
He braved the hydra Falsehood, whose poi
soning folds and dart
Had crushed and wrung and maddened the
God-like human heart;
Retreailng not though tortured, each pore of
being bled,
Till with one grand endeavor He bruised its
mitIed head.
Death mid the iron hail-storm that sweeps
along the van,
Is his who leads with daun,less breast the
forlorn hope of Man
Death nv the az Or UalIows tho rock mr. hama
to him
Who wars with demon prieslhoods or with
the blood-robed King,
Oh, strong-souled Champion of the Right
this was Thy glorious fate;
The false Church nailed Thee on The Cross
raised for Thee by the State.
Yet has Thy Cross become a Throne Judah
and Rome are hurled
In shame beneath Thy mighty reign, Reform
er Of the World!
The Hero Spirit never dies, the Martyr Soul
lives on;
Here refinest Thou, oh Brother! yet, till the
good fight is won.
Thou whisperest in the true mans heart, and
nightly is borne
From land to land, tut-bursting grand, the
chorus Of Reform.
We see not now Thy lleshly form, yet is Thy
spirit near,
Filling the true mans breast with love that
overcometh Fear;
Revealed to all who in the paths of Truth and
Duty run,
Like the great Angel seen by John, throned
in the rising sun.
In no despotic State art Thou, where Rulers
forge the chain
That binds the desolate and poor to PERJURY
and Pain;
In no sectarian Church art Thou, where
knaves and bigots meet,
And broken hearts splash bloody -red beneath
their iron-shod feet.
Thy home is where the Hero dwells who
tolls to overthrow
That Social .4narchy that dooms the world to
guilt and wo;
Where hearts beat warm with faith and love,
as throbs the storm-swept sea,
Thou rulest as a Brother rules the strong
souls of the Free.
Thy voice is heard where Nations rise from
blindness and from sleep,
And call for Brotherhood and Love, as deep
responds to deep.
Thy strength is felt where strong men toll,
with willing lives and true,
To overthrow the useless OLD and build the
glorious NEW;
That SOCIAL UNION that shall Join in one our
Human Race,
And hide with flowers of JOY and peace the
battle-whirlwind's trace;
The CHuRcH OF LOVE, the STATE OF LOVE,
immortal and divine,
Where God and Man shall blend in one to
dwell through endless time!
New York, December, 1916.
Mita for thu Door