The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1919-01-04
AN ELOQUENT TRIBUTE.

i
Times. It says, in part:
Once more the Prince of Peace
resumes His scepter in a broken
world from which He was ban
ished to be again a wanderer,
with no place whereon to lay His
head.
The bloody years have passed,
the bugles sing truce across the
hills of morning after the sorrow
and suffering and agony of the
night. Once more are silent the
iron Threats Of the guns. The red
swords sink back to their worn
lscabbards.
Peace on the rocking hills of
death; peace in the rent and raw
Iished valleys; peace among the
gaunt ghosts of once green forests
and on the moaning shores of
haunted seas.
He rules again who died upon
the tree Of Calvary. The eyes
that looked their tragedy from
the Crucifixion now smile once
more serenely with the light of
Resurrection.
1t is the Great Dawn; it is the
second hour of the worlds re-
demption. The feet of Christ are
lifted again from the dust Of
Damascus.
What protocols the generals
have signed upon the blackened
fields, what terms the van
quished to the victors yield
these matter much. But, what
matters more, and most, is that
Christ again walks down to Cali
lee, His garments shining in the
sun.
"The captains and the kings de-
part" but the Prince of Peace
returns.
Thrones crumble and the crowns
that monarchs wore are tumbled
in the ancient dust Of earth to be
buried there with the baubles Of
1000 yesterdays.
But, there is one throne that has
not crumbled, one crown that
CLEANS with new luster Of it's
everlasting glory. It is the throne
that was builded in the manger Of
Bethlehem; the crown that was
made of thorns before the house
Of PLATE.
| Red are the peoples in Flanders
fields; white are the lilies some
where still in the wales Of France
Long were they crushed beneath
the invaders feet. But, now they
lift up their petals again in glad
ness.
They leap to new beauty now
they fill their cups with the cool
ing dew; they feel the iron heel
no more; it is the Prince of Peace
that walks among them in sandal
shOon.
Ended at last is the bloodiest
and the most heinous war Of which
time has any record.
In the most brutal war that had
| ever been known before, there
was always some semblance of
mercy or Of pity to be found, some
where at some time, even among
those who laughed as they put
their victims to the sword.
In this war there was none. The
Goth was outdone, the Vandal
was outstripped, the ancient Hun
in his filthiest debauchery was out
We'd.
| More than that, and as the final
necessary achievement, they
jeered and Knocked at Christ.
What use had they for that
lowly Wanderer Who came out
from the tender shadows of hum
BILE home in Nazareth? What use
had they who plotted assassination
and murder against an unsus-
| pecting world for Him Who wore
no armor upon His breast and
Who grasped the hilt of no sword
in His gentle hands?
And yet, tonight, when the
voices of the guns are hushed, the
voice that spoke ontO livet is heard
| in all the wide-fungs German
fatherland, whose pride is crushed
forever.
1t is the insistent voice that will
not be stilled. It is the voice that
speaks when all others are mute.
Neither thrones nor guns can
silence it.
Let whoever will have what
visions he may in this vast hour
Of gladness there is but one vision
they see who rest now upon their
arms across the battle blackened
fields that stretch between the mar
row seas and the red waters of
/ the Marine.
/ It is the vision Of the Prince of
/ Peace.
/ 1t is the vision that the soldiers