• Author: Stafford, Wendell Phillips
• Editor: B-7413
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 6
• Page Number:
• Date: 4 25 1917
• Tags:
• poetry

INVOCATION

O Thou whose equal purpose runs In drops of rain or streams of suns, And with a soft compulsion rolls The green earth on her snowy poles; O Thou who keepest in thy ken The times of flowers, the dooms of men, Stretch out a mighty wing above—

Be tender to the land we love! If all the huddlers from the storm Have found her hearthstone wideand warm If she has made men free and glad, Sharing with all, the good she had; If she has blown the very dust From her bright balance to be just, Oh, spread a mighty wing above— Be tender to the land we love!

When in the dark eternal tower The star clock strikes her trial hour, And for her help no more avail Her sea-blue shield, her mountain mail, But sweeping wide, from Gulf to Lakes, The battle on her forehead breaks, Throw Thou a thunderous wing above— Be lightning for the land we love!

— Wendell Phillips Stafford.