The Denver star., 1917-03-03
Douglass Centenary Poem.
sy WALTER E. HAWKINS.

TO brutal arrogance and greed q
prey. t
He gaze hts sacrinctal blood sohi.e bro.
ken 'ne0th the load
As there on slave,y's altar long he
10y.
Hts daily bread soas bitter dre0s as al
hell could afford.
Lie Him soh0 bore tho stms of oil,
earth gaDe him no abode,
Yet IN his agony he kneso that night
ddsOns into dog.
Men called him slope, bwt such az hs
toas tnfnttely free,
Free IN his 1mtGhsed heart to feel the
right.
He Vtstoned heights the semi-mew about
him coxld not see;
He read the prophets Vtston In the
night.
A blight and curse scds all his need,
the slorer's lash hts fee,
Upon this COLD unyteldin0 rock of grim
adpersity.
Whetted his eagle pinions and like CO.
gle took the height.
When scaUes of hatred s,celled and
broke across his scei0hted soHl
Nor right nor left he sperved, bwt
kept the race.
Straight do,Cn tho rough race course
of Hfe, he eyes fred on the goal.
Ho b0re the t0uattn0 scttA beftfin0
grace.
When par gods loshed tho elements
into blackened scroll
And men lost heart bccdsse the dreos
turned bitter In the bocI
he thought not of htmself, bvt of his
persecwted race.
Upright. sSn cro,cned. dtvtxelv blest
sotth roro celestial fire,
Upon God's modern hiU of Mors 10
stood.
In NE great heart scos JosAwo's
strength; HE poIce soos Dovids
Tyre.
His clear toned aotes resoxndts0 o'er
tho flood.
He colled W. from the dread a0yss Of
slaUery's mark and miro;
10 rotsed W. from o1r loso esfate anI
tos0ht ~ to asptre
Up to the hills of God, ,chers az u
beautiful and good.
Ethtone stood DER tho chasns end Soxr-
ed oIt her fe1rs like rois,
And her broken heart scas dvJ~o Of
Ns scoe,
And her cries reached the AlssS0Atv
for her sons and dax0Aters slain,
And the death of her dtstress brov0ht
heouen lotc.
What she lost In death and soSro,c,
schdt she lost IN 0rtef and pain
Heouen repaid her IN the freedom
,chtch thy life did much to 0oiw
When II gaze W. thee, o Dow0l0ss.
quite q hundred years 00o.
Yes, this sfern broped. fcarless Htos
bleto his trumpet In the land
When his bleeding race scds hart ard
sore distressed,
And he sounded the alarm, made men
hear and anderstdnd
That the burden of his race scas IN
his breast.
And his tcords tcere flames of fire and
ne tongue burning brand,
Scion of the seed of Nimrod and a rod
IN AGrOn's hand,
And he sSmmoned men to judgment for
the hedrfsore and oppressed.
We count him great and jxstly hold
him s1orfhv of the name.
No fruer stdfesm0n erer pressed the
sod.
Up to the highest rounds of life from
out the me0nest shdAne
He forged his ,ray into jnst REGARD.
No pen can paint the GnOwish of the
depths from tehtch he came.
He fought his ,oav to freedom, and he
forged his sody to fame,
And he tcrofe his ndme In deatkless
light among the sons of God.
he soas our good Str Galahad, .chose
true strOrd .tcdrered not
When all the tcorld condoned the sin
and rice.
he changed into a chapel his accsrsed
slavery mart
Polluted long by human sacrifice.
His rostrrn, built of chtpptn0 posts
tohere human souls 1oere shot,
Rai&ed freedon's altar and church
upon the SIN cursed spot,
Pvt 1oin0s upon his cross tohereon he
sailed to p0radise.
Ainh 4ehooi Girla In T~o Act Connadv