Fifty Years & Other Poems/O Southland

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O Southland!

O Southland! O Southland! Have you not heard the call,The trumpet blown, the word made known To the nations, one and all?The watchword, the hope-word, Salvation's present plan?A gospel new, for all—for you: Man shall be saved by man.
O Southland! O Southland! Do you not hear to-dayThe mighty beat of onward feet, And know you not their way?'Tis forward, 'tis upward, On to the fair white archOf Freedom's dome, and there is room For each man who would march.
O Southland, fair Southland! Then why do you still clingTo an idle age and a musty page, To a dead and useless thing? ​'Tis springtime! 'Tis work-time! The world is young again!And God's above, and God is love, And men are only men.
O Southland! my Southland! O birthland! do not shirkThe toilsome task, nor respite ask, But gird you for the work.Remember, remember That weakness stalks in pride;That he is strong who helps along The faint one at his side.
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