Last night as I watched the political ranting on one of our candidates for President of the United States, tears came to my eyes as I saw this very clear vision of what was happening in the U.S. The vision was three old, unattended graves marking the death of Idealism, Compassion, and Brotherly Love… the death of America.
Fifty years from now someone is stumbling through the ruins of one of America’s greatest cities… a city called York… and they find this plaque.
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
She cries with silent lips: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free… the homeless, tempest-tossed to me….”
I remember from my earliest of days in school learning about America the Great nation through Emma’s prayer. If that is who we are I am so proud to be part of that better, higher plain living. But last night, people with this dream in their hearts, bowed their heads in prayer.
Keep praying for God to help us see, understand and live on the higher plain… one where Idealism, compassion and brotherly love may live and flourish.