Iii

Arm! arm! that mandate on each wind is whirled. Let no man hesitate or look askance, For from the devastated homes of France And ruined Belgium the cry is hurled. Why, Christ Himself would keep peace banners furled Were He among us, till, with lifted lance, He saw the hosts of Righteousness advance To purify the Temples of the world. There is no safety on the earth to-day For any sacred thing, or clean, or fair; Nor can there be, until men rise and slay The hydra-headed monster in his lair. War! horrid War! now Virtue’s only friend; Clasp hands with War, and battle to the end!