Lesson 229: Sentinel Songs - IV: "When the warrior's sword is lowered"

Chaplain Abraham Ryan Abraham Joseph Ryan, Chaplain, CSA Sentinel Public Domain Courtesy of Mark Carroll 2009 

 Chapter
 I  |  II ,  III 

                 IV


When the warrior's sword is lowered
 Ere its stainless sheen grows dim,
The bard flings forth its dying gleam
 On the wings of a deathless hymn.

Songs, fly far o'er the world
 And adown to the end of time:
Let the sword still flash, tho' its flag be  
furled,
 Thro' the sheen of the poet's rhyme.

Songs! fly as the eagles fly!
 The bard unbars the cage;
Go, soar away, and afar and high
 Wave your wings o'er every age.

Shriek shrilly o'er each day,
 As futureward ye fly,
That the men were right who wore the gray,
 And Right can never die.

And the songs, with waving wing,
 Fly far, float far away
From the ages' crest; o'er the world they fling
 The shade of the stainless gray.

Might! sing your triumph-songs!
 Each song but sounds a shame;
Go down the world, in loud-voiced throngs,
 To win, from the future, fame.

Our ballads, born of tears,
 Will track you on your way,
And win the hearts of the future years
 For the men who wore the gray.

And so -- say what you will --
 In the heart of God's own laws
I have a faith, and my heart believes still
 In the triumph of our cause.

Such hope may all be vain,
 And futile be such trust;
But the weary eyes that weep the slain,
 And watch above such dust,

They cannot help but lift
 Their visions to the skies;
They watch the clouds, but wait the rift
 Through which their hope shall rise.

The victor wields the sword:
 Its blade may broken be
By a thought that sleeps in a deathless word,
 To wake in the years to be.

We wait a grand-voiced bard,
 Who, when he sings, will send
Immortal songs' "Imperial Guard"
 The Lost Cause to defend.

He has not come; he will.
 But when he chants, his song
Will stir the world to its depths and thrill
 The earth with its tale of wrong.

The fallen cause still waits --
 Its bard has not come yet.
His sun through one of to-morrow's gates
 Shall shine, but never set.

But when he comes he'll sweep
 A harp with tears all stringed,
And the very notes he strikes will weep
 As they come from his hand woe-winged.

Ah! grand shall be his strain,
 And his songs shall fill all climes,
And the rebels shall rise and march again
 Down the lines of his glorious rhymes.

And through his verse shall gleam
 The swords that flashed in vain,
And the men who wore the gray shall seem
 To be marshaling again.

But hush! between his words
 Peer faces sad and pale,
And you hear the sound of broken chords
 Beat through the poet's wail.

Through his verse the orphans cry --
 The terrible undertone --
And the father's curse and the mother's sigh,
 And the desolate young wife's moan.


     *    *    *    *    *

Reflection on the Sentinel Song - Chapter IV, and the Season.

Greetings in the name of our RISEN Lord Jesus Christ,

This is the Sunday before Ascension Day, and we will again turn to that Bard in Gray, Chaplain Ryan and his Sentinel Song. Previous chapters are available at the links above this chapter

Bard is a word we don't often use, but peppers this chapter of the Song. My dictionary says that a Bard is "one of an ancient Celtic order of minstrel poets who composed and recited verses celebrating the legendary exploits of chieftains and heroes"

I think Chaplain Ryan wrote of himself, a Celtic Irishman, and his fellow poets who championed the cause of the South immediately after the War. I think also of our own Bards in the Ben Caudill Camp. Our most prolific is our own Commander Chaltas who is indeed a Celtic poet who travels the land constant in his efforts to tell the story of the "legendary exploits of our chieftains and heroes". We ought to give thanks for the work of David, our reenactors on the battlefield, and all who honor the memory of these men whose "warrior's sword is lowered"

I would call your attention to the prophetic words of Chaplain Ryan in this chapter. He says,

That the men were right who wore the gray, And Right can never die.
He has cited the promise that our Lord gave, that the Righteous should live forever. Those who are Right with God, and Right in their actions and heart of hearts.

He brings home that thought with this verse:

And so -- say what you will -- In the heart of God's own laws I have a faith, and my heart believes still In the triumph of our cause
How can the cause have triumphed when the armies have surrendered and been defeated? The triumph in the eyes of the all seeing Lord who knew their battle and cause and has allocated to them a share of his Kingdom. We say "DEO VINDICE", our Confederate motto: GOD VINDICATES. We have that hope yet, and shall keep it. No matter what may come in this pilgrimage, God will vindicate.

Lastly, Ryan speaks of the Second Coming of Christ as he writes in this and in the following stanzas of a Grand-Voice Bard--who can be no other than Christ.

"He has not come; he will. But when he chants, his song Will stir the world to its depths and thrill The earth with its tale of wrong"
Let us remember the words of Ryan and his prophetic song of hope on this coming Thursday-- Ascension Day--and the words of the angels at our Lord's Ascension, how they said

"...this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven."
Come Lord Jesus and vindicate your saints.

sic semper tyrannis

Deo vindice
The Reverend Mark Carroll,
Colonel Ben Caudill Camp
Rogation Sunday, the Sunday before Ascension, MMIX

Editor's note: This is another of the series of passages that continue Ryan's "Sentinel Song". Previous sections are on our Chaplain's Page of lessons under Chaplain Ryan's name. One should take this not as a secular song/poem, but indeed, one of profound religious tone. The Reverend Ryan was born in 1838 in Norfolk, Virginia. He was ordained a Roman Catholic Priest on All Saints Day, (Nov 1) 1856, and enlisted as a Chaplain, CSA, September 1, 1862. He served throughout the war as a chaplain. After the war he founded and served as editor of the Banner of the South, in Augusta, Georgia. He also served as a parish priest in many southern cities. Book here. I plan to include the rest of the passages from this Song and other works of Chaplain Ryan from time to time - on separate Sundays, as circumstances permit. Coming from a man who saw the Southron brave fall first hand, and offered continual prayers for them, one cannot easily pass over these words.
Deo Vindice.