Reveille

Reveille
by
Ronald Lewis Carton (1919)

In the place to which I go,
Better men than I have died.
Freeman friend and conscript foe,
Face to face and side by side,
In the shallow grave abide.

Melinite that scared their brains,
Gas that slew them in a snare,
War's inferno of strange pains,
What are these to them who share
That great boon of silence there?

When like blood the moon is red;
And a shadow hides the sun,
We shall wake, the so-long dead,
We shall know our quarrel done, --
Will God tell us who has won?

A Black Woman's Civil War

The life of Susie King Taylor displayed not just one but many moments of determined heroism. Hers was a heroism anchored in the struggles of everyday life but also fearless in demanding that the country live up to its promises to blacks as they journeyed from slavery to freedom.

Susie King Taylor (1848-1912)was born into bondage on a Georgia plantation during the high tide of southern slavery. Although she had humble origins as a slave, she was sent to a clandestine school run by a free black woman. She had to wrap her books in laundry or newspapers to disguise the fact that she was going to school, because it was against the law to teach slaves to read. During the civil war, she escaped and became a nurse to the black soldiers of the northern army. When Clara Barton arrived, the two worked side by side caring for the wounded. The black former slave girl and the Yankee spinster showed the way that diverse backgrounds could be commingled into one strong unified force. After the war, Susie experienced the full force of prejudice and hatred but remained optimistic and dreamed of the day when justice for African Americans would arrive in the South. She wrote a memoir - "Reminiscences of My Life in Camp, with the 33rd United States Colored Troops Late 1st South Carolina Volunteers". Her testimonial contains poetic and powerful prose.

The choices facing Susie King Taylor may have been limited by the contraints of race and gender, but the heroism she demonstrated during wartime should inspsire us all.

(taken from "Forgotten Heroes" by Catherine Clinton)

I Feel Extremely Alone

"In high school I felt chills run down my spine when I read Samuel Taylor Coleridges's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner", especially these lines:

Alone, alone, all, all alone
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony . . .
So lonely 'twas that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.

In my own grief I have often felt all alone. Telling myself that I was not alone didn't help much, even though it was true. Remember, David the psalmist felt terribly alone at times, especially during his troubles from Alabama. The same David wrote: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." Let your brother David remind you that feeling alone is not being alone." (from "Everyday Comfort by Randy Becton)
Psalms 102:1-4

A Mild-Mannered Hero

"Felix Kersten, a mild-mannered, short man, had a unique place in the Nazi scheme of things. He was a masseur and had wealthy and influential clients in the Third Reich. His most famous cliet was Heinrich Himmler, who was the second most powerful leader in Germany. Just before Hitler invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, Himmler was stricken with severe stomach pains. Physicians had failed to relieve his suffering, so Felix Kersten was called in. Kersten treated the patient with such success that Himmler would be dependent on him during the years ahead.

In March 1945, it was clear that Nazi Germany was on the brink of total collapse, but Hitler had ordered the Gestapo leader to murder the hundreds of thousands of prisoners in concentration camps before they could be liberated by the Allies. Himmler, was again bothered by stomach pains and went to see Kersten. Kersten brought up the topic of the concentration camps and Himmler told him of Hitler's orders. The mild mannered masseur pleaded with Himmler to ignore the directive. 'Those are the Fuhrer's direct orders, and I must see to it that they are carried out' Himmler said testily. Undaunted, Kersten kept hammering away at his patient through his manual therapy during the next 2 weeks. After many heated arguements, the persistent masseur won out. He coerced Himmler into writing on paper a personal pledge to Kersten that he would not have prisoners killed and they would remain in the camps to be handed over to the Allies. Himmler stared at the amzaing document for a while but he finally signed it and gave it to Kersten."

(taken from "Bizarre Tales from World War II by William Breuer)

No Shortcuts

"Years ago I read of the construction of a city hall and fire station in a small Pennsylvania community. The citizens were so proud of their new red brick structure -- a long awaited dream come true. Not too many weeks after moving in, however, strange things began to happen. Several doors failed to shut completely and a few windows wouldn't slide open very easily. As time passed, ominous cracks began to appear in the walls. Within a few months, the front door couldn't be locked . . .and the roof began to leak. By and by, the little building that was once the source of great pride had to be condemned. An intense investigation revealed that deep mining blasts several miles away caused underground shock waves that subsequently weakened the earth beneath the building foundation, resulting in its virtual self-destruction.

So it is with compromise in a life. Slowly, almost imperceptible, one rationalization leads to another, which triggers a series of equally damaging alterations in a life that was once stable, strong, and reliable."

(Charles Swindoll from "Living Beyond the Daily Grind")

"Blessed s the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked . . . but his delight is in the law of the Lord." Psalm 1:1-3

SILENT MYRIADS

At the center of Creation lies a spot of

ceaseless rest,

Where the silent spirit broodeth like a

dove upon its nest:

Round it runs the deep horizon in its golden

quiet curled,

Round it at the wheel of Motion spins the

fashion of the world.

Noiselessly thy gates swing open for their

bars are made of light,

Swinging on the raven darkness from the

outer-wall of night;

Crystal city of the Silent, built beyond

the sounds of sin,

Lift afar your swarming gateways, let the

silent myriads in.

(from the poem "Silence" by S. Miller Hageman, 1876)

Take My Hand, Precious Lord

"Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand,
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn; Thru the storm, thru the night,
Lead me on to the light; Take my hand, precious Lord, Lead me home"
(from the hymn by Thomas Dorsey)

Thomas Dorsey was born just outside of Atlanta, Georgia in 1899. He grew up singing the blues and jazz and by the 1920's became nationally recognized as a leader in this new style of music.
Thomas related the following story - "In 1932, I was 32 years old and living with my wife Nettie in Chicago's south side. One August afternoon I had to go to St. Louis for a revival. Nettie was in the last month of pregnancy with our first child. I didn't want to go, something was strongly telling me to stay, but people were expecting me and I went. The next night, the crowd called on me to sing again and again. When I finally sat down, a messenger ran up with a Western Union telegram. I ripped it open and saw the words "Your wife is dead". I rushed to a phone and called home. All I could hear was "Nettie is dead". When I got back, I learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. Yet that night, the baby had also died. I buried them both, then fell apart. For days I closeted myself. I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn't want to serve him anymore. I was lost in grief.
A friend took me to a neighborhood music school one day and left me alone in a room with a piano. It was quiet and the late afternoon sun shined through the window. I sat at the piano and began to browse over the keys. Something happened to me. I felt at peace. I found myself playing a melody, one I've never heard or played before and words came into my head. As the word and music came to me, it seemed that my heart was also healed. I learned from that tragic experience that when we are in our deepest grief, when we feel farthest from God, this is when He is closest."
(taken from "Sing With Feeling by Robert Jay Taylor,Jr.)