The Crisis

ACROSS the Stony Mountains, o'er the desert'sdrouth and sand,The circles of our empire touch the western ocean'sstrand;From slumberous Timpanogos, to Gila, wild andfree,Flowing down from Nuevo-Leon to California's sea;And from the mountains of the east, to SantaRosa's shore,The eagles of Mexitli shall beat the air no more.

O Vale of Rio Bravo! Let thy simple childrenweep;Close watch about their holy fire let maids ofPecos keep;Let Taos send her cry across Sierra Madre's pines,And Santa Barbara toll her bells amidst her cornand vines;For lo! the pale land-seekers come, with eager eyesof gain,Wide scattering, like the bison herds on broadSalada's plain.

Let Sacramento's herdsmen heed what sound thewinds bring downOf footsteps on the crisping snow, from coldNevada's crown!Full hot and fast the Saxon rides, with rein oftravel slack,And, bending o'er his saddle, leaves the sunrise athis back;By many a lonely river, and gorge of fir andpine,On many a wintry hill-top, his nightly camp-firesshine.

O countrymen and brothers! that land of lake andplain,Of salt wastes alternating with valleys fat withgrain;Of mountains white with winter, looking downward,cold, serene,On their feet with spring-vines tangled and lappedin softest green;Swift through whose black volcanic gates, o'ermany a sunny vale,Wind-like the Arapahoe sweeps the bison's dustytrail!

Great spaces yet untravelled, great lakes whosemystic shoresThe Saxon rifle never heard, nor dip of Saxon oars;Great herds that wander all unwatched, wild steedsthat none have tamed,Strange fish in unknown streams, and birds theSaxon never named;Deep mines, dark mountain crucibles, where Nature'schemic powersWork out the Great Designer's will; all these yesay are ours!

Forever ours! for good or ill, on us the burdenlies;God's balance, watched by angels, is hung acrossthe skies.Shall Justice, Truth, and Freedom turn the poisedand trembling scale?Or shall the Evil triumph, and robber Wrong prevail?Shall the broad land o'er which our flag in starrysplendor waves,Forego through us its freedom, and bear the treadof slaves?

The day is breaking in the East of which theprophets told,And brightens up the sky of Time the ChristianAge of Gold;Old Might to Right is yielding, battle blade toclerkly pen,Earth's monarchs are her peoples, and her serfsstand up as men;

The isles rejoice together, in a day are nationsborn,And the slave walks free in Tunis, and by Stamboul'sGolden Horn!

Is this, O countrymen of mine! a day for us to sowThe soil of new-gained empire with slavery's seedsof woe?To feed with our fresh life-blood the Old World'scast-off crime,Dropped, like some monstrous early birth, fromthe tired lap of Time?To run anew the evil race the old lost nations ran,And die like them of unbelief of God, and wrongof man?

Great Heaven! Is this our mission? End in thisthe prayers and tears,The toil, the strife, the watchings of our younger,better years?Still as the Old World rolls in light, shall ours inshadow turn,A beamless Chaos, cursed of God, through outerdarkness borne?Where the far nations looked for light, a black-ness in the air?Where for words of hope they listened, the longwail of despair?

The Crisis presses on us; face to face with us itstands,With solemn lips of question, like the Sphinx inEgypt's sands!This day we fashion Destiny, our web of Fate wespin;This day for all hereafter choose we holiness orsin;Even now from starry Gerizim, or Ebal's cloudycrown,We call the dews of blessing or the bolts of cursingdown!

By all for which the martyrs bore their agony andshame;By all the warning words of truth with which theprophets came;By the Future which awaits us; by all the hopeswhich castTheir faint and trembling beams across the black-ness of the Past;And by the blessed thought of Him who for Earth'sfreedom died,O my people! O my brothers! let us choose therighteous side.

So shall the Northern pioneer go joyful on hisway;To wed Penobseot's waters to San Francisco's bay;To make the rugged places smooth, and sow thevales with grain;And bear, with Liberty and Law, the Bible in histrainThe mighty West shall bless the East, and sea shallanswer sea,And mountain unto mountain call, Praise God, forwe are free