Chapter IV: Part 4

Yea, in almost every ranch-house is born one flower-like girl
or boy, a stranger among the brothers and sisters. Welcome,
and a thousand welcomes, to these fairy changelings! They
will make our land lovely. Let all of us who love God give
our hearts to these His servants. They are born with eyes
that weep themselves blind, unless there is beauty to look
upon. They are endowed with souls that are self-devouring,
unless they be permitted to make rare music; with a desire
for truth that will make them mad as the old prophets, unless
they be permitted to preach and pray and praise God in their
own fashion, each establishing his own dream visibly in the
world.

The land is being jewelled with talented children, from Maine
to California: souls dewy as the grass, eyes wondering and
passionate, lips that tremble. Though they be born in
hovels, they have slender hands, seemingly lost amid the
heavy hands. They have hands that give way too soon amid the
bitter days of labor, but are everlastingly patient with the
violin, or chisel, or brush, or pen.

All these children as a sacred charge are appearing, coming
down upon the earth like manna. Yet many will be neglected as
the too-abundant mulberry, that is left upon the trees. Many
will perish like the wild strawberries of Kansas, cut down by
the roadside with the weeds. Many will be looked upon like an
over-abundant crop of apples, too cheap to be hauled to
market, often used as food for the beasts. There will be a
great slaughter of the innocents, more bloody than that of
Herod of old. But there will be a desperate hardy remnant,
adepts in all the conquering necromancy of agricultural Song
and democratic Craftsmanship. They will bring us our new time
in its completeness.

This by faith, and a study of the signs, we proclaim!

PROCLAMATION

_Of the Coming of Religion, Equality and Beauty_

In our new day, so soon upon us, for the first time in the
history of Democracy, art and the church shall be hand in
hand and equally at our service. Neither craftsmanship nor
prayer shall be purely aristocratic any more, nor at war with
each other, nor at war with the State. The priest, the
statesman and the singer shall discern one another's work
more perfectly and give thanks to God.

Even now our best churches are blossoming in beauty. Our best
political life, whatever the howlers may say, is tending
toward equality, beauty and holiness.

Political speech will cease to turn only upon the price of
grain, but begin considering the price of cross-roads
fountains and people's palaces. Our religious life will no
longer trouble itself with the squabbles of orthodoxy. It
will give us the outdoor choral procession, the ceremony of
dedicating the wheat-field or the new-built private house to
God. That politician who would benefit the people will not
consider all the world wrapped up in the defence or
destruction of a tariff schedule. He will serve the public as
did Pericles, with the world's greatest dramas. He will
rebuild the local Acropolis. He will make his particular
Athens rule by wisdom and philosophy, not trade alone. Our
crowds shall be audiences, not hurrying mobs; dancers, not
brawlers; observers, not restless curiosity-seekers. Our mobs
shall becomes assemblies and our assemblies religious; devout
in a subtle sense, equal in privilege and courtesy, delicate
of spirit, a perfectly rounded democracy.

All this shall come through the services of three kinds of
men in wise coöperation: the priests, the statesmen and the
artists. Our priests shall be religious men like St. Francis,
or John Wesley, or General Booth, or Cardinal Newman. They
shall be many types, but supreme of their type.

Our statesmen shall find their exemplars and their
inspiration in Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln, as all good
Americans devoutly desire.

But even these cannot ripen the land without the work of men
as versatile as William Morris or Leonardo. Our artists shall
fuse the work of these other workers, and give expression to
the whole cry and the whole weeping and rejoicing of the
land. We shall have Shelleys with a heart for religion,
Ruskins with a comprehension of equality.

_Religion_, _equality_ and _beauty_! By these America shall
come into a glory that shall justify the yearning of the
sages for her perfection, and the prophecies of the poets,
when she was born in the throes of Valley Forge.

_This, by faith, and a study of the signs, we proclaim!_

* * * * *

_EPILOGUE_

[_Written to all young lovers about to set up homes of their own--but especially to those of some far-distant day, and those of my home-village_]

_Lovers, O lovers, listen to my call.
Give me kind thoughts. I woo you on my knees.
Lovers, pale lovers, when the wheat grows tall,
When willow trees are Eden's incense trees:--_

_I would be welcome as the rose in flower
Or busy bird in your most secret fane.
I would be read in your transcendent hour
When book and rhyme seem for the most part vain._

_I would be read, the while you kiss and pray.
I would be read, ere the betrothal ring
Circles the slender finger and you say
Words out of Heaven, while your pulses sing._

_O lovers, be my partisans and build
Each home with a great fire-place as is meet.
When there you stand, with royal wonder filled,
In bridal peace, and comradeship complete,_

_While each dear heart beats like a fairy drum--
Then burn a new-ripe wheat-sheaf in my name.
Out of the fire my spirit-bread shall come
And my soul's gospel swirl from that red flame._

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious typographical errors were repaired.

Hyphenation variants were changed to most frequently used. Where equal, variants were retained.