“Jim!”
He whirled and, with a sob of joy, caught her in his arms.
A Hymn to the Peoples
O Truce of God!
And primal meeting of the
Sons of Man,
Foreshadowing the union of
the World!
From all the ends of earth
we come!
Old Night, the elder sister
of the Day,
Mother of Dawn in the golden
East,
Meets in the misty twilight
with her brood,
Pale and black, tawny, red
and brown,
The mighty human rainbow of
the world,
Spanning its wilderness of
storm.
Softly in sympathy the sunlight
falls,
Rare is the radiance of the
moon;
And on the darkest midnight
blaze the stars—
The far-flown shadows of whose
brilliance
Drop like a dream on the dim
shores of Time,
Forecasting Days that are
to these
As day to night.
So sit we all as one.
So, gloomed in tall and stone-swathed
groves,
The Buddha walks with Christ!
And Al-Koran and Bible both
be holy!
Almighty Word!
In this Thine awful sanctuary,
First and flame-haunted City
of the Widened World,
Assoil us, Lord of Lands and
Seas!
We are but weak and wayward
men,
Distraught alike with hatred
and vainglory;
Prone to despise the Soul
that breathes within—
High visioned hordes that
lie and steal and kill,
Sinning the sin each separate
heart disclaims,
Clambering upon our riven,
writhing selves,
Besieging Heaven by trampling
men to Hell!
We be blood-guilty! Lo,
our hands be red!
Not one may blame the other
in this sin!
But here—here in
the white Silence of the Dawn,
Before the Womb of Time,
With bowed hearts all flame
and shame,
We face the birth-pangs of
a world:
We hear the stifled cry of
Nations all but born—
The wail of women ravished
of their stunted brood!
We see the nakedness of Toil,
the poverty of Wealth,
We know the Anarchy of Empire,
and doleful Death of Life!
And hearing, seeing, knowing
all, we cry:
Save us, World-Spirit, from
our lesser selves!
Grant us that war and hatred
cease,
Reveal our souls in every
race and hue!
Help us, O Human God, in this
Thy Truce,
To make Humanity divine!