Today my mom, sister, friend, and I are at the St. Joseph County Library in South Bend, Indiana. My mom is looking up information on our family history so we are here passing time. I am very grateful for my laptop! :-) While looking at old newspapers from Mishawaka, my mom came across this poem. I thought it was pretty good, so I decided to share it with you.
Against vile slander there is no defence,
Save in the arm of strong Omnipotence;
Mankind cannot deplore so fell a foe,
Exultingly it gives the fatal blow.
'Tis like the fearful pestilential tide,
Spreading its dread contagion far and wide;
The dark assassins midnight work of death
Cannot compare with Slander's blighting breath:
The man, the wretch, who would traduce your name,
Who tells his tale of scandal, and of shame,
To a cold-hearted world, ahs made you feel
A deeper wound than time can ever heal!
You might as well recall the winds that blow,
Or quench the stars, in the blue heavens that glow,
As seek a shelter from the withering blight
Of his aspersions, his envenomed spite!
The slanderer would blight the fairest flower
Of innocence, that blooms in truth's own bower;
He would demolish human purity,
And place his boradest stamp of infamy,
On holiest servants of the living God,
And still would greet them with a friendly nod;
His hellish malice hopes bright flowrets crush!
He murders innocence without a blush;
And often causes bitter tears of woe
Down the fair cheek of Honesty to flow.
Mourn not, thou injurned one, pass meekly by
The world's contempt, the cold averted eye:
O heed them not; there is a home for thee,
At God's right hand, a blest Eternity;
There's a rich heritage beyond the tomb,
And there shall truth in living beauty bloom!
Let not your life to tears of grief be given,
Present your cause to the high court of Heaven.
When the great day of recompense shall come,
No liar then shall speak, the slanderer shall be dumb!
Then shall the righteous Judge pronounce your name
Before assembled worlds, devoid of shame.
Then shall you walk among the Sons of Light,
Clad in a spotless robe of purest white;
The crown is yours, and yours the golden lyre,
Join your glad voice with Heaven's angelic choir!
Imagine finding that in a newspaper today! :-) How interesting that even the public newspapers would include writings that pointed the reader towards a heavenly focus, rather than an earthly one.