ODE For the Semi-centennial Celebration of the Founding of the A half a hundred years ago to-day Seven youths joined hands to consecrate this shrine, Youth is the father of all fellowship, Oh, when his suns in twilight darkness dip, We drift on desert seas of selfishness, When cold Indifference steers the bark alone; We heed no shipwreck's signals of distress, Forgetting others' miseries in our own. But here we anchor for one happy day, And tread old memory-gardens of the past, Let Youth's pink roses twine through locks of Age; Oh, let us read once more from one sweet page ODE. Come, let us gather, old-time friends, again, Here, like the seven golden candlesticks Seven lights are set, on which our eyes may fix, One candlestick is Friendship, one is Truth, And one is Faith, and Hope another yet; And one is Peace, and one called Glow of Youth, With Love high over all the others set. O, be they not like torches quenched in strife, But true as Smyrna, crowned with endless life, THE WORLD IS MY HOME. I travel to East, I wander to West; Each land that I see is dear to my breast. I greet the green hills as I float down the Rhine, All men are my brothers, the world is my home. Let Sultans and Czars make war if they will, To murder the man who has done him no harm. Wherever we meet, on sea or on sod, We are brethren of Christ, we are children of God. They may prattle of Codes, or prate of their Creeds I care not for these, but for brotherly deeds. They may boast of their Church, their Clique or their ClanI but yearn for the touch of a true fellow-man. So my heart still repeats, wherever I roam, All men are my brothers, the world is my home. |