Journeys Through Bookland Volume Vii Part 17

Sitting down with all my previous attempts before me I searched through those dozens of sketches, till at last I found just one line I liked. That was, 'Lest we forget.' Round these words _The Recessional_ was written."

G.o.d of our fathers, known of old-- Lord of our far-flung battle line, Beneath whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine-- Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies-- The Captains and the Kings depart.

Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart.[164-1]

Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

[Ill.u.s.tration: ON DUNE AND HEADLAND]

Far-called our navies melt away-- On dune and headland sinks the fire; Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

Judge of all Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-- Such boasting as the Gentiles use Or lesser breeds without the law-- Lord G.o.d of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard-- All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding calls not Thee to guard-- For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy mercy on thy People, Lord!

Amen!

A recessional is a hymn sung while the clergy and the choir are retiring at the end of a church service. We must remember that this hymn was written for the celebration of the sixtieth anniversary of the coronation of Queen Victoria, and that its sentiment is English. The central idea appearing in the refrain at the end of each stanza is that the nation must recognize the presence of G.o.d, and remember its duties to Him. While the phrases in the poem call us constantly back to England and English dominions, yet the sentiment is so universal and so applicable to all nations, that the hymn is admired everywhere.

The first stanza refers to the conquests of England, whose battle lines have been flung far over all parts of the world, and to the fact that under the awful hand of G.o.d the British hold dominion over India and the tropical lands where the palm tree grows, as well as over the pine-clad hills of Canada and other Northern regions. It is an appeal to the Almighty to be with the nation, and to remind the people of their duty to the G.o.d of Hosts. The succeeding stanzas may be paraphrased as follows:

After the tumult and the shouting of the celebration die away, when the captains and the kings, who have met from all parts of the world to pay homage to the queen and to the nation, depart, there still remains as the most acceptable gift to G.o.d, the ancient sacrifice--an humble and a contrite heart.

The British navies, called to far distant climes, separate and melt away. Sinking below the horizon they see behind them on the dunes and headlands the smouldering bonfires lit in celebration of the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria. The once magnificent cities of Nineveh and Tyre are now in ruins, perhaps covered by s.h.i.+fting desert sands. Their pomp and their glory have departed, but no more completely than the glory and the pomp of yesterday have gone from the nation. Judge of all Nations, spare the English from destruction, and keep them in mind of their obligations to Thee.

If, glorying in our power, we talk wildly of what we have done in words that give no praise to G.o.d, and boast as the barbaric races do, we pray Thee, Lord G.o.d of Hosts, to remind us that everything we possess has come from thy guiding hand.

Show mercy to thy people, Lord, for frantic boasts and foolish words, for heathen hearts that put their trust in reeking cannon and the fragments of bursting sh.e.l.ls, and to those who, bravely guarding the wide borders of our land, forget that they are but valiant dust, and call not upon Thee to guard them.

FOOTNOTES:

[164-1] This is a reference to _Psalms LI, 17_: "The sacrifices of G.o.d are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O G.o.d, thou wilt not despise."

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER[167-*]

_By_ FRANCIS SCOTT KEY

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming!

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?

On that sh.o.r.e dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now s.h.i.+nes on the stream; 'Tis the star-spangled banner! O long may it wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!

Blest with vic'try and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "_In G.o.d is our trust_"; And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

FOOTNOTES:

[167-*] On the night of Sept. 12, 1814, Fort Henry in Chesapeake Bay not far from Baltimore was unsuccessfully attacked by a British fleet. The author, detained a prisoner on the fleet, witnessed the bombardment and began the song there.

HOW'S MY BOY?

_By_ SYDNEY DOBELL

"Ho, sailor of the sea!

How's my boy--my boy?"

"What's your boy's name, good wife, And in what s.h.i.+p sailed he?"

"My boy John-- He that went to sea-- What care I for the s.h.i.+p, sailor?

My boy's my boy to me.

"You come back from the sea, And not know my John?

I might as well have asked some landsman Yonder down in the town.

There's not an a.s.s in all the parish But he knows my John.

"How's my boy--my boy?

And unless you let me know I'll swear you are no sailor, Blue jacket or no, Bra.s.s b.u.t.tons or no, sailor, Anchor and crown, or no!

Sure his s.h.i.+p was the 'Jolly Briton--'"

"Speak low, woman, speak low!"

"And why should I speak low, sailor, About my own boy John?

If I was loud as I am proud I'd sing him over the town!

Why should I speak low, sailor?"

"That good s.h.i.+p went down."

"How's my boy--my boy?

What care I for the s.h.i.+p, sailor, I was never aboard her.

Be she afloat or be she aground, Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound Her owners can afford her!

I say, how's my John?"

"Every man on board went down, Every man aboard her."

"How's my boy--my boy?