Classic Poem

I have lived in the Garden with Adam,
And eaten the fruit of the tree;
I have hidden ashamed from the face of God,
For I dreamed that he could not see.
The flaming sword of the Angel of Wrath
Has driven me over the earth;
I am marked with the brand of the murderer Cain;
I have travailed at death and at birth.
With patriarch, priest, and prophet
I seek for the Promised Land: —
Lead me, brother; follow me, brother;
Brother, O take my hand!
I am moving onward and ever on;
O brother, I may not stand.

I have found my king in a little Child
And knelt in a manger-room;
But I sold the Master for silver coin;
With a kiss I sealed his doom.
I hung on the cross with Christ the Lord,
I suffered his pain and scorn;
But mine were the hands that drove the nails
And wove him the crown of thorn.
I track the light of my guiding star
Through the snow and the desert sand: —
Lead me, brother; follow me, brother;
Brother, O take my hand!
I am but a pilgrim, O brother;
And woe is me if I stand.

I have made my children the slaves of Trade
And scarred their backs with the rod;
For a bag of gold with a sword of steel
I have broken the laws of God.
But whenever a Call demands my life,
I have laid it down with a will;
For honor and love and a heartwrung cry
I can play the hero still.
My feet are firm on the steep, strait way —
Though I doubt if I understand: —
Lead me, brother; follow me, brother;
Brother, O take my hand!
And stay not behind, O brother of mine!
On the road to the Promised Land.