Classic Poem

" Behold, when we come to the land, thou shalt bind this line of scarlet thread in the window which thou hast let us down by. " — Joshua, 2:18.

Red as the lips of Rahab,
Harlot of Jericho,
Hung the thread from her casement
Ages on ages ago!

Over the fire and slaughter
Shone the cord's rich flame:
Out of her ruined city
Rahab, the shielded, came!

Swiftly the spinners of evil
Gathered the thread and spun:
Nightly robed in its color
Daughters of Babylon!

How its riotous tangles
Twisted dancer and priest!
Twined the groves of Astarte;
Girdled the emperor's feast!

Solomon, from his window,
Watching Jerusalem,
Mused on the subtle woman
Flaunting her scarlet hem!

Men go marching to battle —
Suddenly flares from a door,
Deadlier than their foemen,
Crimson that Rahab wore!

Yea, and the spindles that fashioned
Nineveh's red attire
Spun for our present cities
The halter of desire!

Then is the thread so woven
Into the web of the race
That, age through age, we must bear it
Down to the Judgment Place?

When will our spirits sicken
Of weaving the cloth of doom?
When will the God within us
Shatter its shuttle and loom?