Classic Poem

“Out of danger,” the doctors say;
The battle with Death is won.
So millions of hearts are glad to-day,
And millions of lips thank God as they pray,
At the going down of the sun.

Through terrible days of doubt and gloom,
Through nights of fear and dread,
All hearts were turned toward that silent room,
Where Destiny wrought in her pauseless loom,
By one brave sufferer's bed.

A nation's fate was the net she wove,
With shuttle stained bloody red;
And a nation waited in trembling love—
Some turn of the beam the strength should prove
Of one nigh severed thread.

It will not break! Speed the tidings forth!
Though silken, 'tis wondrous strong.
It has drawn together the South and the North—
So much to the Land one life is worth;
May that life be happy and long.

They have grieved together, they join to-day
In a glad thanksgiving hymn,
Who have met erewhile in the deadly fray—
And oh! may the fellowship live for aye.
That was born in that chamber dim.

We prize the prompt, full sympathy
Which from other lands comes in;
Our grief has waked beyond the sea,
Great throbs of that humanity
Which “makes the whole world kin.”

We prize the sympathy none the less
That is flashed from every shore,
Because, with reverent thankfulness,
And with tender tears, we prize and bless
That of our brothers the more.

Then ring, ye bells! Ye organs, sound,
In anthems deep and grand!
Let joyful cannon shake the ground:
Let feasts be spread, let joy abound—
Love reigns throughout the land.