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 They have heaped the fields with slaughter: their sin defiles the day. They have laid on the weak sore burdens, on the just, their whips and ban: For a handful of crimsoned silver they have kissed the Son of Man. Roll back the scroll of the heavens; from out of the womb of birth Come forth new heavens untainted; come forth, renewed, the Earth!"

MARQUETTE ON THE SHORES OF THE MISSISSIPPI

On seeing the original manuscript map of the Mississippi River by its discoverer, Father Marquette

Here, in the midnight of the solemn wood, He heard a roar as of a mighty wind,— The onward rush of waters unconfined Trampling in legions thro' the solitude. Then lo! before him swept the conquering flood, Free as the freedom of the truth-strong mind Which hills of Doubt could neither hide nor bind, Which, all in vain, the valley mounds withstood!

With glowing eye he saw the prancing tide With yellow mane rush onward thro' the night Into the vastness he had never trod: Nor dreamt of conquest of that kingdom wide As down the flood his spirit took its flight Seeking the long-lost children of his God!