James Russell Lowell was one of the great literateurs of the last half of the 19th century, and he is still well worth reading today. I was struck by how appropriate his poem “This Present Crisis” speaks to our country at war in Iraq today just as well as it did in the dark days of the Civil War. Meditate on the following, especially the last two stanzas.

This poem is based on Russell’s understanding of the freedom God desires for human beings from the things that bewitch, bother and bewilder us. Here is a portion of what he said in the poem, “The Present Crisis”

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,

In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side;

Some great cause, God’s new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight,

Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right,

And the choice goes by forever ‘twixt that darkness and that light.

Hast thou chosen, O my people, on whose party thou shalt stand,

Ere the Doom from its worn sandals shakes the dust against our land?

Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet ‘t is Truth alone is strong,

And, albeit she wander outcast now, I see around her throng

Troops of beautiful, tall angels, to enshield her from all wrong.

Backward look across the ages and the beacon-moments see,

That, like peaks of some sunk continent, jut through Oblivion’s sea;

Not an ear in court or market for the low, foreboding cry

Of those Crises, God’s stern winnowers, from whose feet earth’s chaff must fly;

Never shows the choice momentous till the judgment hath passed by.

Careless seems the great Avenger; history’s pages but record

One death-grapple in the darkness ‘twixt old systems and the Word;

Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne,—

Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown,

Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.

………………

New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good uncouth;

They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth;

Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! we ourselves must Pilgrims be,

Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea,

Nor attempt the Future’s portal with the Past’s blood-rusted key.

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