i-\v
s:
4Ijv |%
568 f
E 1a98 
11q
_b I
~     ~A   A,;
yN e\  f t m ^-, -S,
(VcA^MV V^.
I   i  At  A:\< 


54544 6


CA SL t -.


X /\A


I IMa1, IAm' 1-,1P I 6  k  = -b -4  -.   44
I               V, hh  v 
D~~~~~~~~~~~


University of Michigan




....................n.................................
ASL ([N.lCTILH.ifstnS
NIVT)IOII3IIlAO ALLIOS8NTA InL
aI
AIVN:1 I riL[V2JN6I{D




WY


V.
91
91


"I 


liv,


<1


%  I
i




-,e




/ VL '


LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS
"LEST WE FORGET"
AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1898
LELAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY
ON
MAY 25, 1898
BY DAVID STARR JORDAN
President of the University
PUBLISHED FOR THE UNIVERSITY BY THE COURTESY OF
JOHN J. VALENTINE, ESQ.
PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA
AUGUST 10, 1898.




_ —i- -b(~zA. ano  t.  ra..a  aibSq_.i.~=.


I








a
I




LELAND STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVERSITY PUBLICATIONS


"LEST WE FORGET"
AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE GRADUATING CI ASS OF 1898
LELAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY
ON
MAY 25, 1898
BY DAVID STARR JORDAN
President of the University
PUBLISHED FOR THE UNIVERSITY BY THE COURTESY OF
JOHN J. VALENTINE, ESQ.
PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA
AUGUST 10, 1898.




PRESS OF. S. CROCKER COMPANY              s
SAN FRANCISCO 
'llllllllllllllll   ill llllll lllllll  llll l  llllllll 




PREFATORY NOTE.
The present address was delivered before the graduating class of Leland Stanford, Jr. University in connection
with the granting of degrees, on May 25, 1898. It is published in the present form through the kindly interest of
Mr. John J. Valentine, of San Francisco. It is here reprinted as delivered with a few slight verbal changes
only, although the movement of events has shifted the
perspective of some matters under discussion.
I may add one further word. It is a fundamental tenet
of democracy that " government must derive its just
powers from the consent of the governed." For the time
being, government may have another justification, namely,
that it is good government, and being good-just, economical and dignified-it may acquire in time the consent of
the governed. The good government of careless and lawless races is the foundation and the justification of British
imperialism. Imperialism is a difficult art, acquired by
long practice, and through the experience of many failures. The secret of England's success lies in the lesson
of respect for law, a lesson America in her reaction of
national independence has half forgotten. To teach
respect for law is Great Britain's civic mission. To teach
respect for the individual man has been the mission of
America.




6


It is a common saying in these days that on whatever
shores the Stars and Stripes has been raised, it will never
be hauled down. This saying would be more worthy of
respect if coupled with another, namely thatwherever the
American flag may fly it will bring good government, respect for man, and respect for law. To reach this, we must
turn over a new leaf. Our record thus far in colonial matters has been one of waste and neglect. Spain lost her colonies because she treated them much as we have treated
our own colony of Alaska. " Compulsory Imperialism,"
we are told, the extension of civilization under the lead
of happy chance and " Manifest Destiny," is the next stage
in the development of the United States. Probably this
is true, but, if so, we must not forget that dominion has
its duties as well as its glories, and of these the duties are
most numerous as well as most insistent. We must take
lessons in respect for law from the only nation (save
thrifty Holland) whose foreign possessions have been
other than a source of weakness and corruption. The loss
of her colonies may mark the civil and moral awakening
of Spain. Let us trust that the same event may not bring
moral and political decay to the nation which, most
unwillingly, inherits Spain's bankrupt assets.
DAVID STARR JORDAN.
Palo Alto, Santa Clara County, Cal.,
August 10, 1898.




"LEST WE FORGET."
MEMBERS OF THE GRADUATING CLASS OF 1898:
As educated men and women, in your hands lies the
future of the State. It is for you and such as you to work
out the problems of democracy. This is my justification
in speaking to you of the present crisis. For a great
world crisis is on us, and this year of 1898 may mark one
of the three great epochs in our history.
Twice before in our national life have we stood in
the presence of a great crisis. Twice before have we
come to the parting of the ways, and twice has our choice
been controlled by wise counsel.
The first crisis followed the War of the Revolution.
Its question was this: What relation shall the emancipated colonies bear to one another? The answer was
the American Constitution, the federation of self-governing and united states.
The second crisis came through the growth of slavery. The union of the states " could not endure, half
slave, half free." The emancipation proclamation of
Abraham Lincoln marked our decision that the Union
should endure; and that all that made for division should
be swept away.
The third great crisis is on us now. The war with
Spain is only a part of it. The question is not: Can we
capture Manila, Havana, Porto Rico or the Canaries? It
is not what we can take or what we can hold. The
American navy and the American army can accomplish
all we ask of them with time and patience.




8


Battles are fought to-day through engineering and
technical skill, not through physical dash. The great
cannon speaks the language of science, and individual
courage is helpless before it. The standing of our naval
officers in matters of engineering is beyond question.
There are a hundred nameless lieutenants in our warships who, if opportunity offered, could write their names
beside those of Grenville and Nelson and Farragut and
Dewey. The glory of Manila is not dim beside that of
Mobile or Trafalgar. The cool strength and soberness
of Yankee courage, added to the power of naval engineering, could meet any foe on earth on equal terms, and
here the terms are not equal. Personal fearlessness our
adversaries possess, and that is all they have. That we
have, too, in like measure. Everything else is ours. We
train our guns against the empty shell of a mediaeval
monarchy, broken, distracted, corrupt.
The war with Spain marks in itself no crisis. The
end is seen from the beginning. It was known to Spain
as clearly as to us. But her government had no recourse.
They had come to the end of diplomacy, and could
only die fighting. " To die game " is an old habit of the
Spaniard. " Whatever else the war may do," says the
Spanish diplomat, with pathetic honesty, " it can only
bring ruin to Spain."
It is too late for us now to ask how we got into the
war. Was it inevitable? Was it wise? Was it righteous? We need not ask these questions, because the answers will not help us. We may have our doubts as to one
or all of these, but all doubts we must keep to ourselves.
We are in the midst of battle, and must fight to the end.
The "rough-riders" are in the saddle. "What though the
soldier knew some one had blundered?" The swifter,
fiercer, more glorious our attacks, the sooner and more
lasting the peace. There is no possible justification for
the war unless we are strong' enough and swift enough
to bring it to a speedy end. If America is to be the




9


Knight-errant of the Nations she must be pure of heart
and swift of foot, every inch a knight.
The crisis comes when the war is over. What then?
Our question is not what we shall do with Cuba, Porto
Rico and the Philippines. It is what these prizes
will do to us. Can we let go of them in honor or
in safety? If not, what if we hold them? What will
be the reflex effect of great victories, suddenly realized
strength, the patronizing applause, the ill-concealed envy
of great nations, the conquest of strange territories, the
raising of our flag beyond the seas? All this is new to
us. It is un-American; it is contrary to our traditions;
it is delicious; it is intoxicating.
For this is the fact before us. We have come to our
manhood among the nations of the earth. What shall
we do about it? The war once finished, shall we go back
to our farms and factories, to our squabbles over tariffs
and coinage, pur petty trading in peanuts and postoffices? Or shall our country turn away from  these
things and stand forth once for all a great naval power,
our vessels in every sea, our influence felt over all the
earth? Shall we be the plain United States again, or shall
we be another England, fearless even of our own great
mother, second to her only in age and prestige?
The minor results of war are matters of little moment in comparison. Let us look at a few of them as we
pass. Most of them are not results at all. The glow of
battle simply shows old facts in new relation.
The war has stirred the fires of patriotism, we say.
Certainly, but they were already there, else they could
not be stirred. I doubt if there is more love of country
with us to-day than there was a year ago. Real love of
country is not easily moved. Its guarantee is its permanence. Love of adventure, love of fight, these are
soon kindled. It is these to which the battle spirit appeals.
Love of adventure we may not despise. It is the
precious heritage of new races; it is the basis of personal
courage; but it is not patriotism; it is push. Love of




10


fight is not in itself unworthy. The race which cannot
fight if need be, is a puny folk destined to be the prey of
tyrants. But one who fights for fight's sake is a bully, not
a hero. The bully is at heart a coward. To fight only
when we are sure of the result, is no proof of national
courage.
Patriotism is the will to serve one's country; to make
one's country better worth serving. It is a course of
action rather than a sentiment. It is serious rather than
stirring. The shrilling of the mob is not patriotism. It
is not patriotism to trample on the Spanish flag, to 'burn
fire-crackers or to twist the Lion's tail. The shrieking of
war editors is not patriotism. Nowadays, nations buy
newspapers as they buy ships. Whatever is noisy,
whether in Congress or the pulpit, or on the streets, cannot be patriotism. It is not in the galleries that we find
brave men. "Patriotism," says Dr. Johnson, "is the
last refuge of the scoundrel." But he was speaking of
counterfeit patriotism. There could not be a counterfeit were there not also a reality.
But this I see as I watch the situation: true patriotism declines as the war spirit rises. Men say they have
no interest in reform until the war is over. There is no
use of talking of better financial methods,of fairer adjustments of taxes, of wiser administration of affairs, until the
war fever has passed by. The patriotism of the hour
looks to a fight with some other nation, not towards
greater pride in our own.
The war has united at last the North and the South,
we say. So at least it appears. When Fitzhugh Lee is
called a Yankee, and all the haughty Lees seem proud of
the designation, we may be sure that the old lines of division exist no longer. North and South, East and West,
whatever our blood, birth or rank, we Yankees stand
shoulder to shoulder in 1898. But our present solidarity
shows that the nation was sound already, else a month
could not have welded it together.




11


It is twenty-eight years ago to-day that a rebel soldier who says"I am a Southerner,
I loved the South and dared for her
To fight from Lookout to the sea
With her proud banner over me,"
stood before the ranks of the Grand Army and spoke
these words:
"I stand and say that you were right;
I greet you with uncovered head,
Remembering many a thundrous fight,
When whistling death between us sped;
I clasp the hand that made my scars,
I cheer the flag my foeman bore,
I shout for joy to see the stars
All on our common shield once more."
This was more than a quarter of a century ago and
all this time the great loyal South has patiently and
unflinchingly accepted war's terrible results. It is not
strange, then, that she shows her loyalty to-day. The
"Solid South," the bugaboo of politicians, the cloak of
Northern venality, has passed away forever. The warm
response to American courage, in whatever section or
party, in whatever trade or profession, shows that with
all our surface divisions, we of America are one in heart.
The impartial bitterness of Spanish hatred directed
toward all classes and conditions of Anglo-Saxons alike
emphasizes the real unity of race and nation.
There are some who justify war for war's sake.
Blood-letting " relieves the pressure on the boundaries."
It whets courage. It keeps the ape and tiger alive in
men. All this is detestable. To. waste good blood is
pure murder, if nothing is gained by it. To let blood for
blood's sake is bad in politics as it is in medicine. War is
killing, brutal, barbarous killing, and its direct effects are
mostly evil. The glory of war turns our attention from
civic affairs. Neglect invites corruption. Noble and necessary as was our Civil War, we have not yet recovered




12


from its degrading influences. Too often the courage of
brave men is an excuse for the depredations of venal politicians. The glorious banner of freedom becomes the
cover for the sutler's tent.
The test of civilization is the substitution of law for
war; statutes for brute strength. No doubt diplomacy, as
one of our Senators has said, is mostly "a pack of lies," and
arbitration, as we have known it, is compulsory and arbitrary compromise. But in the long run truth will out, even
in diplomacy. The nations who suffer through clumsy and
blundering tribunals of arbitration will learn from this
experience. They will find means, at last, to secure
justice as well as peace. As private war gave way to
security under national law, so must public war give way
to the law of civilization.
I hear men say to-day that war is necessary to the
Republic because we need new heroes for our worship.
The old heroes are getting stale. Those of the Revolution are half mythical. Washington and Greene were
never actually alive in real flesh and blood. Even Grant
and Sherman, Lee and Jackson, Thomas and Farragut
are names only to most of us. Our fathers knew them,
but their's are not names to conjure with to-day. The
name of Dewey fills a popular want. The heroes of the
newspaper in times of peace are mere tinsel heroes. Here
is one with flesh and blood in him, a man of nerve and
courage and success.
All this is true, but our heroes were with us already.
In times of peace they were ready for heroism. The real
hero is the man who does his duty. It does not matter
whether his name be on the headlines of the newspapers
or not. His greatness is not enhanced when a street or a
trotting horse is named for him. It is the business of the
Republic to make a nation of heroes. The making of brave
soldiers is only a part of the work of making men. The
glare of battle shows men in false perspective. To one
who stands in its light we give the glory of a thousand.




13


But we may applaud with the rest as the great captains
pass before us. They have earned their renown, yet when
" the tumult and the shouting dies," still the crisis remains. What effect must the war have on us?
Our line of action seems a narrow one. Our policy
has been fully declared. Our armies invade Cuba to put
an end to disorder, brutality and murderous wrong. In
the words of the resolution of Congress:
" The abhorrent conditions which have existed for more than three years
in the island of Cuba, so near our own borders, have shocked the moral sense of
the people of the United States, have been a disgrace to Christian civilization,
and cannot longer be endured."
And in recording the necessity which forces us to
act we disclaim all selfish intentions. Thus Congress used
these words which are already part of the record of history and which we may not forget:
"The United States hereby disclaims any disposition or intention to
exercise sovereignty, jurisdiction or control over said islands except for the
pacification thereof, and asserts its determination when that is accomplished to
leave the government and control of the island to its people."
The wrongs we would avenge are not new to Spain.
By such cruelties she has always held her possessions. By
such means she has lost most of them. Flanders, Mexico,
Peru, Venezuela, Chili, Cuba, all tell the same story.
Spain still belongs to the seventeenth century. From
the seventeenth century Cuba has escaped. To her we
shall bring order and relief. Her shackles once broken,
then we shall stay our hand. To Cuba Libre, independent
and free, we will leave the choice of her own future.
But this is easier said than done. Cuba Libre has
no heart or will to choose. Her present nominal government is not that of a republic. It is a political oligarchy,
which has its seat not in Havana, but in New York.
Cuba is helpless now. As a republic she will be helpless
still. Spanish blood and Spanish training illy prepare a
land for freedom. Freedom such as we know it has never
yet been won by people of Latin blood. The freedom of
Spanish America is for the most part military despotism.




14


It is said of the government of Russia that it is " despotism tempered by assassination." That of most of our sister republics is assassination tempered by despotism,
Mexico, the best of them, is not a republic; it is a despotism, the splendid tyranny of a man strong and wise, who
knows Mexico and how to govern her, a humane and
beneficent tyrant.
There are many noble men in Cuba, men of education
and character, with the culture and bearing of gentlemen.
Some of these I know, and one I have been proud to call
my friend, Felipe Poey, during fifty years professor in the
University of Havana. Most good men in Cuba hope for
the success of the insurgents, but they have not much
confidence in Cuban democracy. The common run of the
Cuban population is of a very different class.
"The Cuban soldiers at Tampa," says John R.
Rathom, "are very small, excitable, erratic, physically
unfit. They go about the camps brandishing their
machetes and telling our infantrymen who tower above
them like giants, how they are going to cut the Spaniards
to pieces. Their whole spirit is one of frothy boasting."
There are three things inseparable from the life of
the Cuban people to-day, the cigarette, the lottery ticket,
and the machete. These stand for vice, superstition and'
revenge. Above these the thoughts of the common man
in Cuba seldom rise. Most of the people cannot read,
and those who can read largely the literature of vice.
From my own visit to Havana, two keen recollections
remain. In the early morning the markets are filled by
a long procession of loaded burros who came down from
the mountain side. These bring everything that is eatable, with the rest live pigs and sheep. Pigs and sheep
alike are tied in pairs and hung saddle-wise, head downward, from the backs of the donkeys. From two until four in the morning the long procession comes in, the
pigs lustily squealing, the sheep helpless and dumb. But
nobody cares for an animal's pain. There is no society for




15


prevention of cruelty to animals in Cuba. There are not
many who could understand even the purpose of such a
society. In Havana, bull-fights follow the church services,
not fights but slaughter. A horse lame and blind is
ripped up by an infuriated bull, who in turn is done to
death by the stab of a skillful butcher.
At Christmas time all interest centers in the lottery.
Everybody buys lottery tickets. Charms, fortune-tellers,
astrology and all the machinery of superstition are
brought into play to select the lucky numbers. How
many days old am I? How many days old is my Dolores?
How many days old was I on my lucky day when I drew
the prize last year? How can I find my lucky number?
These matters are talked of everywhere on the streets,
in the church, in the wine rooms, in the theatres. One
hears the parrots on their posts at the gate discussing
the very same questions. The birds rattle off the names
and numbers as glibly as their masters, and with as high
a conception of the possibilities of life.
It seems probable that most of the oppressed people,
crowded from their homes by Weyler's armies, will be
dead before we come to their relief. In starving out
Havana we shall doubtless starve them first. Those
who survive may become our bitterest enemies before the
year is out. For these people prefer the indolence of
Spanish rule with all its brutalities to the bustling ways
of the Anglo-Saxon. Many of them would take their
chances of being starved or butchered rather than to
build roads, wash their faces and clean up their towns.
To suppress the lottery and the cock-fightwould be to rob
them of most that makes life worth living. The Puritan
Sabbath and the self-control it typifies in their minds
would be worse than the flames of Purgatory. Whether
as a free nation under our protection or whether
governed by our martial law, it will be no easy task to
hold the peace in Cuba Libre. The down-trodden Cuban
and the Spanish oppressor are the same in blood, the
same in method.




16


But we may say that American enterprise will
change all this. It will flow into Cuba when Cuba is free.
It will clean up the cities, stamp out the fevers, build
roads where the trails for mule-sleds are, and railroads
where the current of traffic goes. It will make the pearl
of the Antilles the fairest island on the face of the earth.
No doubt all this will come if we give a stable government. Whatever else we say or do we must give such
a government. The nations of the world will hold us responsible for Cuba through the years to come. A virtual
serfdom under American martial law is the fate of Cuba,
though we may declare her free and independent.
Why then shall we not hold Cuba, if she becomes
ours by right of conquest? Because that would be a
cowardly thing to do. The justification of her capture is
that we do not want her. If we want Cuba, common
decency says that we must let her alone. Ours is a war
of mercy, not of conquest. This we have plainly declared
to all the nations. Perhaps we meant what we said,
though the speeches in Congress do not make this clear.
If we can trust the records, our chief motives were three:
desire for political capital, desire for revenge, and sympathy for humanity.
It was desire for political capital that forced the
hand of the President. "The war," says Dr. Frank Drew,
"did not begin as an honorable war. If it is to become
such, it must be made honorable by other men than those
whose votes committed us to it."
If we retire with clean hands, it will be because our
hands are empty. To keep Cuba or the Philippines would
be to follow the example of conquering nations. Doubtless England would do it in our place. The habit of
domination makes men unscrupulous.
Professor Nicholson of Edinburgh has said: "There
can be no question, in the light of history, that the political instinct of the English people-or to adopt the popular language of the moment, the original sin of the




17


nation-is to covet everything of its neighbors worth
coveting, and it is not content until the sin is complete."
No wonder England now pats us on the back. We are
following her lead. We are giving to her methods the
sanction of our respectability. Of all forms of flattery,
imitation is the sincerest.
By a war of conquest fifty years ago we took from
Mexico her fairest provinces. For the good of humanity
we did it, no doubt, and along the lines of manifest des,
tiny. Brave battles our soldiers fought, but for all that,
the war itself was most inglorious. So it reads in history
as we write it to-day. It is iniquitous in history as written in Mexico.
Shall then the war for Cuba Libre come to an inglorious end? If we make anything by it, it will be most inglorious. It will be without honor if its two millions a
day are made good by conquered territory. Neither for
conquest nor for revenge have we sent forth the army of
the Republic. "Let us beware," says J. K. H. Burgwin,
"of placing ourselves in the position of doing a noble and
generous act and then demanding that a bankrupt and
humbled enemy shall pay our expenses." If we are going
to hold the prizes of war or to use them in thrifty trade
we should never have set out on the errands of humanity.
The nations of Europe look with jealousy on our possibilities of strength. " If I only," some king may say"if I only had all these men, all this land, all these resources, I would eclipse the glory of Caesar, of Charlemagne, of Napoleon." If we turned everything into fighting, what a fight we could make. But we have gone about
our business, a vast nation of common people, careless of
European complications, indifferent to European glory,
unconscious of our power.
For the end of government by the people is to fit the
people to control their own affairs. The basis of our government is the town meeting. The people manage their
local business, and send their wisest men as delegates to




18
look after the interests of the nation. This was the dream
of the fathers. If there has been much change and some
degeneration, yet in substance the thoughts of the
fathers prevail. The liberties of the people are secure
because they are everywhere in the people's hands.
America is not a power among the nations.                  She is a
nation among the powers. A          "power" is a country which
is concerned with affairs not her own and which develops
the machinery to make such concern effective. A nation
minds her own business.
The spirit of our foreign policy has been to avoid all
display of power. It was set forth in Washington's farewell address, in these memorable words:
"The great rule of conduct for us in regard to foreign nations is, in
extending our commercial relations, to have with them as little political connection as possible. * * * Europe has a set of primary interests which to us
have none or very remote relation. Hence she must be engaged in frequent
controversies the causes of which are essentially foreign to our concerns. Hence,
therefore, it must be unwise in us to implicate ourselves by artificial ties in the
ordinary vicissitudes of her politics or the ordinary combinations and collisions
of her friendships or enmities.  Our detached and distant situation invites and
enables us to pursue a different course. * * * Why forego the advantages
of so peculiar a situation?  Why quit our own stand upon foreign ground?
Why, by interweaving our destiny with that of any part of Europe, entangle
our peace and prosperity in the toils of European ambition, rivalship, interest,
humor, or caprice? It is our true course to steer clear of permanent alliances
with any portion of the foreign world."
The America of which Washington dreamed should
grow strong within herself, should avoid entangling alliances with foreign nations, should keep out of all fights
and all friendships that are not her own, should secure
no territory that might not be self-governing, and should
acquire no provinces that might not in time be numbered
among the United States.          To this policy     his followers
closely adhered. Even gratitude to France never made
us her catspaw in her struggle against England. No outflow of sympathy has caused us to interfere in behalf of
Ireland or Armenia or Greece.




19


But the world is smaller than in Washington's day.
Steam and electricity have bound the world together.
The interests of one nation are those of all nations. The
interests of Armenia, Cape Colony and Ceylon are closer
to us to-day than those of France and Germany
were to our fathers. Traditions are worthy of respect
only when they serve the real needs of the present. So
it may be that with changed conditions the wise counsel
of the past may be open to revision. Are times not already ripe for a change in national policy?
Let us look for a moment at the policy of England.
The United States is great through minding her own
business; England through minding the business of the
world. In Norse mythology the Mitgard Serpent appears
in the guise of a cat,-a feeble creature to all appearance,
but its body passes around the world, its tail growing
down into its own throat and by its mighty strength it
holds the world together. Such is England-the Mitgard
Serpent of the nations, the assignee of bankrupt lands, the
police force of disorderly ones. By the power of her will
and brain she has made this an Anglo-Saxon planet.
No other agency of civilization has been so potent as
England's enlightened selfishness. Her colonies are of
three orders-friendly nations, subject nations and military posts. The larger colonies are little united states.
They are republics and rule their own affairs. The subject
nations and the military posts England rules by a rod of
iron because no other rule is possible. Every year England seizes new posts, opens new ports and widens the
stretch of her empire. But of all this Greater Britain,
England herself is but a little part, the ruling head of a
world-wide organism. " What does he know of England
who only England knows." No doubt as Kipling says,
England
"thinks her empire still
Twixt the Strand and Holborn Hill,"




20


but the Strand would be half empty were it not that it
leads outward to Cathay. The huge business interests of
Greater Britain are the guaranty of her solidarity. All
her parts must hold together.
In similar relation to the Mother Country, America
must stand. Greater England holds over us the obligations of blood and thought and language and character.
Only the Saxon understands the Saxon. Only the Saxon
and the Goth know the meaning of freedom. " A sanction like that of religion," says John Hay, " enforces our
partnership in all important affairs." Not that we
should enter into formal alliance with Great Britain.
We can get along well side by side, but never tied together. When England suggests a union for attack and
defense, let us ask what she expects to gain from us.
Never yet did England offer us the hand in open friendliness, in pure good faith, not hoping to get the best of the
bargain. This is the English government, which never
acts without interested motives. But the English people are our friends in every real crisis, and that without
caring overmuch whether we be right or not. War
with England should be forever impossible. The need
of the common race is greater than the need of the
nations. The Anglo-Saxon race must be at peace within
itself. Nothing is so important to civilization as this.
A war between England and America fought to the bitter end might submerge civilization. When the war
should be over and the smoke cleared away there would
be but one left and that, Russia.
But though one in blood with England our course of
political activities has not lain parallel with hers. We
were estranged in the beginning, and we have had other
affairs on our hands. We have turned our faces westward, and our work has made us strong. We have had
our forests to clear, our prairies to break, our rivers to
harness, our own problem of slavery to adjust. We have
followed the spirit of Washington's address for a hun



21


dred years, until the movement of history has brought us
to the parting of the ways. Federalism or Imperialismwhich shall it be?
In the direction of imperialism we have already
taken certain steps. The promulgation of the Monroe
Doctrine is one of these. Its original impulse was a jealous regard for the liberties of the republics of Latin
America. We make no objection to the present occupation of parts of America by European powers, but we
shall prevent by force any extension of such, dominion.
The cause of the Monroe Doctrine was the danger to republicanism through monarchical aggression. With the
republics of America our interests were supposed to be
in unison. But our real interests lie now in other directions. We have a thousand ties binding us to Europe for
one to Latin America. Even Japan and China are more
to us than the states of South America. Moreover,
the republics we would guard are really only republics
in name. They hhve no more of a republican spirit than
has Italy or Spain, and vastly less than England or Germany. The aggressions of England on Venezuela which
our strong protest prevented were really in the interest
of civilization. These republics hate the United States,
her people and her institutions. They resent our protection and repel our patronage, and as for us, we are
likely to despise them rather than to love them. The
guardian of the two Americas must use a strong hand if
it would save all of its wards from barbarism.
So the Monroe Doctrine is not alone a willingness to
protect our sister republics from European aggression.
It must become a means of holding them in order. So
long as the Monroe Doctrine is put forth, so long must we
be in some degree surety for the good behavior of South
America. This necessity has carried us away from our
traditional attention to our own affairs. It will carry
us still further unless the policy be reversed.
The purchase of Alaska marks another movement
away from self-government. This vast, wild, resourceful




22


land, unfit for habitation for the most part, unfit for selfcontrol, we have made a province of our republic. We
have placed it under our flag, but the flag is all we have
given it. On stretches of coast as long as that of
California, dotted with fishing villages, the United States
has exercised no authority whatever. -Over the whole
coast of Alaska, from Sitka to Point Barrow, there have
been only scattering and sporadic efforts at national rule.
With a population so weak and scattered, self-government is impossible, and we have no other form of government to offer. The condition of Alaska to-day is simply
a disgrace to us. The host that fare to the Klondike
make their own government as they go along. What little government Alaska had in the past has now been
mostly withdrawn on account of the war with Spain.
We need the patrol vessels for coast defence. This is as
though we sent San Francisco police to garrison Manila.
In public affairs we can never attend to two things at a
time. Considering our possibilities and our intentions,
we have treated the Aleutian Islands as shabbily as
Spain has treated Cuba, and Russia has almost as good
a right to protest against our ways as we have to protest
against those of Spain.
This difference obtains. The natives of Alaska are
gentle and tractable and away from the eyes of the
world. They have no friends, no element of the picturesque, and our cruelty is not violence but neglect. We
have wantonly allowed the destruction of the Sea Otter,
their chief means of subsistence. We have wasted the
sea-lion which furnishes their boats.  Starvation and
death are everywhere imminent in these coast settlements of Alaska, and the blame for it rests on us. " Reconcentrados " between Arctic snows and San Francisco
greed, the Aleuts must starve and freeze. From Prince
William's Sound to Attu, nearly fifteen hundred miles,
not a village has a sure means of support left to-day.




23


According to latest reports from Port Etches, all the
people of the village live together in the cellar of an
abandoned warehouse. Wosnessenski was starving last
year. In Belkofski, Morjovi, Atka, Attu, and a half
dozen other villages, the Company's store has been closed
because the people can no longer pay for supplies. Civilization has made flour, sugar, tea and tobacco necessities of life, and these they can get no longer. From St.
Lawrence we hear that the people have traded all their
possessions for a cargo of " Florida Water," which is a
polite name for raw whiskey, and have all starved to
death after a week of debauch.
As our government is constituted men must govern
themselves and send their delegates to Congress. For
others we have no government at all. The great corporations in Alaska are still squatters on government land, and
the disputes among their employees must be settled by
blow of fist or they are not settled at all. Open warfare
with knife and gun has existed more than once along the
salmon rivers. This is not the fault of the companies.
They are law-abiding enough when there is any law.
" But there runs no law of God nor man to the north of
fifty-three." The villages of Aleuts and Esquimaux are
ruled by the Company store-keeper and the Russian
priest, each with authority unlimited and unsupported
by law. The staunch laws of prohibiticn by which liquor
is excluded from Alaska cannot enforce themselves, and
no other adequate force is provided. The whole matter is
a huge farce, and its necessary result is contempt for law.
With a colonial bureau like that of England, the
problems of ruling an inferior and dependent people
would be simple enough. Such a bureau could take care
of Alaska and could give good government to any territorv over which our flag may float.
Such a bureau we must have if Alaska is not to remain a matter of public embarrassment. Such a bureau
could operate Hawaii aswell. Hawaii cannot govern




24


itself under our federal forms. It is an oligarchy in the
natureofthings. Under colonial management it would be
peaceful and prosperous. The more it had to do, the more
effective such a colonial bureau would become. Every
governmental department tends to aggrandize itself.
Colonies would demand more colonies. If we have Alaska
already and are certain to take Hawaii, why not establish such a colonial bureau and manage them as England
manages Hong Kong and Singapore and Jamaica? In
the same way we may control Cuba, which falls as a ripe
pear into our hands. And Porto Rico must go with Cuba.
The Philippines are not very far away. They are
nearer to San Francisco than Boston was to Philadelphia
in the times of Washington, and the transfer of news is
a matter of a few hours only. The Philippines are as
large as New England and New York, with a population
greater than all the Rocky MIou'ntain country and the
Pacific Slope combined. They have a hard population to
manage, to be sure, a substratum of Kanakas and
Malays, lazy and revengeful, over these a social layer of
thrifty Chinese and canny Japanese, then next a Spanish
aristocracy and a surface scum of the wanderers of all
the world. In the unexplored interiors of the great
islands live the wild tribes of negritos, untamed black
imps as incapable of self-government or of any other
government as so many monkeys. Spain has stood at
the gateway of this rich land and taken toll of whatever
goes out. This is all she has attempted. We could not
do much more, but whatever is possible we can do as
well as any one else. If we do not keep the Philippines,
they will surely fall into worse hands.
And all these territories are to-day virtually under
the American flag. But why stop here? One great need
of the world's commerce is a canal across the territory
of Nicaragua, and we may seize that turbulent little republic as a guarantee for the security ard neutrality of
the canal. Then Costa Rica has her coffee fields and




25


there is wondrous wealth in Guatemala. In the Caroline
Islands we would find a good coaling station. We have
literary interest in Samoa at least, and in the name of
the Ladrones, the islands of the great thieves, we
ought to find something suggestive. An open port of
our own on the coast of China would give our commerce
its proper level of equality. Perhaps Swatow would suffice for us after Russia, and Germany, and France, and
England has each made its choice.
Then there are the Blue Canaries. From the tall
peak of Teneriffe we can overlook the entrance to the
Mediterranean and keep our watch on the politics of
Europe. As England is the assignee of bankrupt Egypt,
shall we not seize the assets of bankrupt Spain? To be
sure we come in late in the game of territorial expansion.
We must take what we can get, and we cannot get much
except by force. Still we must have it. For all this and
more, according to Theodore Roosevelt and a host of
others is our "manifest destiny." To help along "manifest destiny," is the purpose of the war with Spain. The
spell is on us and it is the more irresistible because it
came unawares. Recently in an address in Boston,
Richard Olney, one of the wisest of our public men, who
checked the bold, bad British Lion by a bluff as big as
the lion's own roar, made a vigorous plea for national
expansion. He says:
" But it is even a more pitiful ambition for such a country to aim to
seclude itself from the world at large, and to live a life as isolated and independent as if it were the only country on the footstool. A nation is as much a
member of society as an individual. * * * Does a foreign question or
controversy present itself, appealing however forcibly to our sympathies or sense
of right-what happens the moment it is suggested that the United States should
seriously participate in its settlement? A shiver runs through all the ranks of
capital, lest the uninterrupted course of money-making be interfered with; the
cry of 'Jingo!' comes up in various quarters; advocates of peace at any price
make themselves heard from innumerable pulpits and rostrums; while practical
politicians invoke the doctrine of the Farewell Address as an absolute bar to all
positive action. The upshot is more or less an explosion of sympathy or
antipathy at more or less public meetings, and, if the case is a very strong one,




26


a more or less tardy tender by the Government of its 'moral support.' Is that
a creditable part for a great nation to play in the affairs of the world? * * *
This country was once the pioneer, and is now the millionaire. It behooves it to
recognize the changed conditions, and to realize its great place among the powers
of the earth. It behooves it to accept the commanding position belonging to it,
with all its advantages on the one hand, and all its burdens on the other. It is
not enough for it to vaunt its greatness and superiority, and call upon the rest of
the world to admire and be duly impressed. Posing before less favored peoples
as an exemplar of the superiority of American institutions may be justified and
may have its uses; but posing alone is like answering the appeal of a mendicant
by bidding him admire your own sleekness, your own fine clothes and handsome
house, and your generally comfortable and prosperous condition. He possibly
should do that and be grateful for the spectacle, but what he really asks and
needs is a helping hand. The mission of this country, if it has one, and I verily
believe it has, is not merely to pose, but to act-and, while always governing
itself by prudence and common sense and making its own special interests the
first and paramount objects of its care, to forego no fitting opportunity to further
the progress of civilization practically as well as theoretically by timely deeds as
well as by eloquent words. There is such a thing for a nation as a ' splendid
isolation '-as when, for a worthy cause, for its own independence, or dignity, or
vital interests, it unshrinkingly opposes itself to a hostile world. But isolation
that is nothing but the shirking of the responsibility of high place and great
power is simply ignominious. "
"The doors to that 'shining destiny ' are open wide," says a late writer in
the San Francisco Chronicle. "Shall the Nation pass them or shall it shrink
back into itself and leave to other and braver hands the prizes of the future.
To broaden out in the field of enterprise and acquisition is the duty of the
Republic, to strengthen itself whenever it safely can, to do its part in redeeming
the victims of ignorance as well as of cruelty, to gather to itself the riches that
will free it from debt, and make its influence paramount in the world's affairs as
the greatest part of the Anglo-Saxon brotherhood; to plant itself in the midst
of events, and mold them to its mighty purpose."
Such is the dream of American imperialism. Its
prizes lie in our hands unasked. The fates have forced
them upon us. But before we seize them, now let us ask
what it will cost? First, it will cost life and money in
rich measure. Kipling tells us the cost of British Admiralty:
We have fed our sea for a thousand years,
And she calls us still unfed,
Though there's never a wave of all her waves
But marks our English dead.




27
We've strewed our best to the weeds' unrest,
To the shark and the sheering gull;
If blood be the price of admiralty
Lord God I we have paid it in full.
There's never a flood goes shoreward now
But lifts a keel we have manned;
There's never an ebb goes seaward now
But drops our dead on the sand;
But slinks our dead on the strand forlore
From the Ducies to the Swin;
If blood be the price of admiralty,
Lord God, we have paid it in.
We must feed our sea for a thousand years
For that is our doom and pride,
As it was when they sailed with the golden Hind,
Or the wreck that struck last tide;
Or the wreck that lies on the spouting reef,
When the ghastly blue-lights flare:
If blood be the price of admiralty,
My God, we have paid it fair.
If we have a navy that can make historyy we must
pay for it as England does, not only in blood but in cold,
hard cash. This means more taxes, heavy taxes, more expenditures, more waste. It means the revision of our tax
laws, a tariff for revenue only with every element of protection for American industries squeezed out of them.
The government will need all it can get. We must manage our colonies that they may yield revenue. We must
cherish commerce as we have tried to cherish manufacture, and we must cherish manufacture and agriculture
through commerce. Much more of a navy we need to
preserve ourselves from imbecility. One victory like that
of Manila may save us from a dozen insults, and we must
have the means to win such victories.
So far this would not be unmixed evil, perhaps no
evil at all. But we must go farther. Imperialism demands the maintenance of a standing army large enough
to carry out whatever we undertake. We must wholly




28


change our pension laws and deal with the veteran on a
basis of business not of sentiment. Imperialism leaves
no place for sentiment in public affairs. To maintain
strong armies the nations of continental Europe sacrifice
everything else. The people are loaded with armor till
they cannot rise, and they dare not throw it off. Even
to-day Italy is on the verge of a revolution, and the cause
is the cost of the army. The Italian proverb says that if
one throws a stone from a window it will hit a soldier
or a priest, and the farmer pays for both.
The whole world must become the range of our interest. We must make every American's house his castle
from Kamchatka to Kerguelen. We must be quick to
revenge and strong to bluff. We must never fight when
the issue is doubtful and never fail to fight if there is a
point to be gained. We must give up our foolish notion
that America is big enough to maintain a separate basis
of coinage, a freeman's scale of wages, a peculiar republican social order different from that of the rest of mankind. We must open our own doors as we would push
open the doors of the world. We must change the character of our diplomacy. We must make statecraft a profession. Hitherto we have sent out our embassadors because to do so is the fashion among nations, not because
we have anything for them to do. Hereafter they must
go out to spread American influences. The plain, blunt,
effective truth-telling of our present diplomacy must give
way to the power to carry our point. We must not send
men to foreign countries because we do not want them at
home. The dull incompetence of our consular service
must give way to a system of trained agents. And this,
too, has its compensating reactions. As our foreign service is made effective it will become dignified. This will
help our relations abroad because foreign nations judge
us by the quality of our representatives.




29


Our government must be changed for our changing
needs. We must give up the checks and balances in our
constitution. It is said that our great battleship Oregon
can turn about end for end within her own length. The
dominant nation must have the same power. She must
be capable of reversing her action in a minute, of turning
around within her own length. This "our prate of statute and of state" makes impossible. We shall receive
many hard knocks before we reach this condition, but we
must reach it if we are to "work mightily" in the affairs
of the world. If we are to deal with crises in foreign affairs we must hold them with a steadier grasp than that
with which we have held the Cuban question. We cannot move accurately and quickly under the joint leadership of a conservative and steady-headed President, a
hysterical or venal Senate and a louse intent upon its
own re-election. That kind of checks and balances we
must lay aside forever. As matters are now, President,
Senate and House check each other's movements and the
State falls over its own feet.
The government of the United States is the expression of the transient will of the people, -o hemmed in by
checks and balances that positive action is difficult whatever the will of the majority for the moment may be.
This is the government for peace and self-defense, but
not for aggression. The government of England expresses the permanent will of the intelligent people with
such checks as shut out ignorance and control incompetence. The nation and not the individual man is the
unit in its actions.
Towards the English system we must approach more
and more closely if we are to deal with foreign affairs in
large fashion. The town-meeting idea must give way
to centralization of power. We must look away from our
own affairs, neglect them if you please, until the pressure




30


of growing expenditure forces us to attend to them again,
and to attend to them more carefully than we ever yet
have done. Good government at home must precede good
government of dependencies. QOne reason England is
governed well is that misgovernment anywhere on any
large scale would be fatal to her credit and fatal to her
power. She must call her best men to her political service, because without them she would perish.
It may be that the choice of imperialism is already
made. If so, we shall learn the lesson of dominion in the
hardest school of experience. That we shall ultimately
learn it I have no doubt, for ours is a nation of apt
scholars. We shall hold our own in war and diplomacy,
we shall tie the hands of turbulent nations and seize the
assets of bankrupt ones, and we shall teach the art of
money-making to the dependent nations who shall be our
wards and slaves.
Some great changes in our system are inevitable,
and belong to the course of natural progress. Against
them I have nothing to say. Whatever our part in the
affairs of the world we should play it manfully. But
with all this I believe that the movement toward broad
dominion so eloquently outlined by Mr. Olney, would be
a step downward. It would be to turn from our highest
purposes to drift with the current of manifest destiny.
It would be not to do the work of America, but to follow
the ways of the rest of the world. I make no plea for indifference or self-sufficiency or isolation for isolation's
sake. To shirk from world-movements or to drift with
the current is alike unworthy of our origin and destiny.
Only this I urge; let our choice be made with open eyes,
not at the dictates of chance disguised as "Manifest Destiny." Unforgetting, open-eyed, counting all the cost, let
us make our decision. Let ours be sober, fearless, prayerful choice. The federal republic,-the imperial republic
-which shall it be?




31


There are three main reasons for opposing every step
toward imperialism. First, dominion is brute force;
second, dependent nations are slave nations; third, the
making of men is greater than the building of empires.
As to the first of these: the extension of dominion
rests on the strength of arms. Men who cannot hold
town meetings must obey through brute force. In Alaska,
for example, our occupation is a farce and scandal. Only
force can make it otherwise. Only by force can the
masses of Hawaii or Cuba be held to industry and order.
To furnish such power, we shall need a colonial bureau,
with its force of extra-national police. A large army and
navy must justify itself by doing something. Army and
navy we must maintain for our own defense, but beyond
that they can do little that does not hurt, and they must
be used if they would be kept alive. Even warfare for
humanity falls to the level of other wars, and all wars
according to Benjamin Franklin, are bad, some worse
than others. The rescue of the oppressed is only accomplished by the use of force against the oppressor. The
lofty purposes of humanity are forgotten in the joy of
struggle and the pride of conquest.
The other reasons concern the integrity of the Republic itself. This was the lesson of slavery, that no republic can " endure, half slave and half free." The republics
of antiquity fell because they were republics of the few
only, for each citizen rested on the backs of nine slaves.
A republic cannot be an oligarchy as well. The slaves
destroy the republic. Whenever we have inferior and
dependent races within our borders to-day, we have a
political problem-"the Negro problem," "the Chinese
problem," "the Indian problem." These problems we
slowly solve. Industrial training and industrial pride
make a man of the Negro. Industrial interest may even
make a man of the Chinaman, and the Indian disappears
as our civilization touches him.




32


But in the tropics such problems are perennial and
insoluble. Cuba, Manila, Nicaragua will be slave territories for centuries to come. These people in such a
climate can never have self government in the AngloSaxon sense. Whatever form of control we adopt, we
shall be in fact slave-drivers, and the business of slavedriving will react upon us. Slavery itself was a disease
which came to us from the British West Indies. It breeds
in the tropics like yellow fever and leprosy. Can even
an imperial republic last, part slave, part free?
But England endures, and her control of slave territories is her " doom and pride." What then of British
imperialism? From the standpoint of imperialism England is an oligarchy, not a republic. Her government is
not self-rule, but the direction of commerce. It is admiralty rather than democracy. Americans govern themselves. Englishmen are ruled by the government of
their own choosing. Englishmen govern themselves in
municipal affairs, and in ways from which we have much
to learn. In foreign affairs their huge governmental machine, backed by the momentum of tradition, is allpowerful. This rules Ireland, India, Gibralter, Egypt,
all England's dependencies and wards. The other colonies are republics in fact. Canada, New Zealand, the
states of Australia —these are republics bound to keep
the peace with the mother country, but in no other way
controlled by her. Only ties of sentiment bind Canada to
England. In all practical matters, she is one with the
United States.
The stronger the governmental machine, and the
more adjustable its powers, the better the government.
But government is not the main business of a republic.
If good government were all, democracy would not deserve half the effort that is spent upon it. For the function of democracy is not to make government good. It




33


is to make men strong. Better government than any republic has yet enjoyed could be had in simpler and
cheaper ways. The automatic scheme of competitive
examination would give us better service at half the
present cost. Even an ordinary intelligence office, or
stateman's employment bureau would serve us better
than conventions and elections. Government too good
as well as too bad may have a baneful influence on men.
The purpose of self-government is to intensify individual
responsibility, to promote attempts at wisdom, through
which true wisdom may come at last. The republic is a
huge laboratory of civics, a laboratory in which strange
experiments are performed, but by which, as in other
laboratories, wisdom may arise from experience, and
once arisen may work itself out into virtue.
It is not true that the government " which is best
administered is best." That is the maxim of tyranny.
That government is best which makes the best men. In
the training for manhood lies the certain pledge of better
government in the future. The civic problems of the
future will be greater than those of the past. They will
concern not the relation of nation to nation, but of man
to man. The policing of far-off islands, the maintenance
of the machinery of imperialism are petty things beside
the duties which the higher freedom demands. To turn
to these empty and showy affairs, is to neglect our own
business for the gossip of our neighbors. Such work may
be a matter of necessity; it should not be a source of
pride. The political greatness of England has never lain
in her navies nor the force of her arms. It has lain in her
struggles for individual freedom. Not Marlborough nor
Nelson nor Wellington is its exponent. Let us say rather
Pym and Hampden, and Gladstone and Bright. The real
problems of England have always been at home. The
pomp of imperialism, the display of naval power, the




34


commercial control of India and China,-all these are as
the " bread and circuses " by which the Roman emperors
held the mab from their thrones. They keep the people
busy and put off the day of final reckoning. " Gild the
dome of the Invalides," was Napoleon's cynical command, when he learned that the people of Paris were becoming desperate.
The people of England seek blindly for a higher justice, a loftier freedom, and so the ruling ministry crowns
the good queen as " Empress of India." Meanwhile, the
real problems of civilization develop and ripen. They
care nothing for the greatness of empire nor the glitter
of imperialism. They must be solved by men, and each
man must help solve his own problems. The development of republican manhood is just now the most important matter that any nation in the world has on hand.
We have been fairly successful thus far, but perhaps only
fairly. Our government is careless, wasteful, and unjust, but our men are growing self-contained and wise.
Despite the annual invasion of foreign illiteracy, the individual intelligence of men stands higher in America
than in any other part of the world. The bearing of the
people at large in these days is a lesson in itself. I
watched the crowds around the bulletin boards the other
night in San Francisco. These men were laborers, for
the most part, loafers some of them, not as a whole belonging to the favored classes. But they did not form
a mob. They were there as so many individuals. They
did not lose their heads. They kept the bearing and the
reserve of gentlemen. I saw no rowdyism, no disorder,
no raw enthusiasm. The war news, false or true, placarded on the walls, was exciting in its nature, but the
men were not excited; they were ready to act when the
time came for action. They gave no vulgar display of
sentiment when action was impossible. Compare the be



35


havior of the American people, in this and other trying
times, with that of the masses of any other nation, and
we see what democracy has done. And we shall see more
of this as our history goes on. Free schools, free ballot,
free thought, free religion,-all tend to enforce self-reliance, self-respect, and the sense of duty which are the
surest foundation of national greatness.
An active foreign policy would slowly change much
of this. The nation which deals with war and diplomacy
must be quick to act and quick to change. It must, like
the Oregon, be able to reverse itself within its own
length. To this end, good government is a necessity,
whether it be self-government or not. Democracy yields
before diplomacy. Republicanism steps aside when war
is declared. "An army," said Wellington, "can get
along under a poor general. It can do nothing under a
debating society." In war the strongest man must lead,
and military discipline is the only training for an army.
In a militant nation the same rules hold in peace as in
war. We cannot try civic experiments with a foe at our
gates. A foe is always at the gates of a nation with a
vigorous foreign policy. The British nation is hated and
feared of all nations except our own. Only her eternal
vigilance keeps the vultures from her coasts. Eternal
vigilance of this sort will strengthen governments, will
build up nations; it will not in like degree make men.
The day of the nations as nations is passing. National
ambitions, national hopes, national aggrandizement,all these may become public nuisances. Imperialism like
feudalism belongs to the past. The men of the world as
men, not as nations, are drawing closer and closer together. The needs of commerce are stronger than the
will of nations, and the final guarantee of peace and
good will among men will be not "the parliament of
nations," but the self-control of men.




36


But whatever the outcome of the present war, whatever the fateful twentieth century may bring, the primal
duty of Americans is never to forget that men are more
than nations; that wisdom is more than glory, and virtue
more than dominion of the sea. The kingdom of God is
within us. The nation exists for its men, never the men
for the nation.    " The only government that I recognize,"
said Thoreau, "and it matters not how             few  are at the
head of it or how small its army, is the power that established justice in the land, never that which establishes
injustice." And the will of free.men to be just one
toward another, is our best guarantee that " government
of the people, for the people, and by the people, shall not
perish from the earth."
God of our fathers, known of oldLord of our far-flung battle lineBeneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pineLord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting diesThe captains and the kings departStill stands Thine ancient Sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!
Far-called our navies melt awayOn dune and headland sinks the fireLo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget t












3
A




I                               I