And the Guiding One he pointed me
To each and each the deed,
And never a word was ever heard
Of Prophet or Saint or Creed.
And never a word was ever heard
But the path that each had run,
Till the purple mist stooped down and kissed
And said that the work was done.
And there stood he of the iron will
Nor gold could bend or buy:
And there stood she of the Mother Love
That never asketh why.
And there stood he who striving lost,
But striving, gained the Crest:
And there stood she who nursed them back
With bullet-ridden breast.
And there stood he whose right hand gave,
But the left--it never knew:
And there stood she who held him fast
When the Beckoning Whispers blew.
And there stood he who saved a life
By fire, sea or sword:
And these were Chiefs of the Upper Hosts
And first before the Lord.
But high o’er the great Arch-angels,
Higher than any stand,
I saw the chosen of the King
At the right of the Master’s hand.
And I questioning gazed in the deep-lit eyes
And the silent face aglow,
Till the Guiding One It answered me
The word that I wished to know--
“Out of the crash of battle,
Where the shrieking bullet sings,
The roaring front lines reel and rock
As a wounded vulture swings.
“As a wounded vulture halting swings
The quivering squadrons break,
Till the shattered herds catch up the words,
‘Back, back for your Country’s sake!’”
(Back, back to follow after
The light of fearless eyes,
And the sound of a voice that knows no choice
Where the love of a Nation lies.)
And the Guiding One it paused apace,
And then I heard it say--
“And he?--_He died in leading
The charge that won the day._”