It is a shameful thing that there should ever have been any doubt in American minds of the true significance of Washington either as man or soldier or statesman. But the writers of our day have decided that--if they can help it--the sins of the fathers are not going to be visited upon "the third and fourth generation." The call has gone out for modern champions of our ancient champion; and literature has responded with a will.
It takes long, however, to straighten out a national misconception. The new literature has not yet had time to take hold of the popular imagination. But when it does, and when we cease to regard the Father of our Country as a demigod, and begin to love him as a man, then Washington's Birthdays everywhere will lose their stiff, perfunctory, bloodless character, and recover the inspiring, emotional quality of the early celebrations.
[1] In "The True History of the American Revolution" and "The Struggle for American Independence."
Welcome to the day returning, Dearer still as ages flow, While the torch of Faith is burning, Long as Freedom's altars glow! See the hero whom it gave us Slumbering on a mother's breast; For the arm he stretched to save us Be its morn forever blest!
Vain is empire's mad temptation! Not for him an earthly crown! He whose sword has freed a nation Strikes the offered scepter down. See the throneless conqueror seated, Ruler by a people's choice; See the patriot's task completed; Hear the Father's dying voice:
"By the name that you inherit, By the sufferings you recall, Cherish the fraternal spirit; Love your country first of all! Listen not to idle questions If its bands may be untied; Doubt the patriot whose suggestions Strive a nation to divide."
Father! we, whose ears have tingled With the discord notes of shame; We, whose sires their blood have mingled In the battle's thunder-flame,-- Gathering, while this holy morning Lights the land from sea to sea, Hear thy counsel, heed thy warning; Trust us while we honor thee.
[6] _By permission of the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin & Co_.
'Tis splendid to live so grandly That long after you are gone, The things you did are remembered, And recounted under the sun; To live so bravely and purely, That a nation stops on its way, And once a year, with banner and drum, Keeps its thought of your natal day.