Road Song
By Irene P. McKeehan
(In “The Century Magazine.”)
I have lived in the garden with Adam,
And eaten the fruit of the tree;
I have hidden, ashamed, from the face of God,
For I dreamed that He could not see.
The flaming sword of the Angel of Wrath
Has driven me over the earth;
I am marked with the mark of the murderer Cain;
I have travailed at death and at birth.
With patriarch, priest and prophet, I seek for a promised land,
Lead me, brother; follow, me, brother; brother, oh, take my hand!
I am moving onward, and ever on, O brother, I may not stand!
I have made my children the slaves of trade,
And scarred their backs with the rod;
For a bag of gold, with a sword of steel
I have broken the laws of God.
But whenever a cause demands my life,
I have laid it down with a will;
For honor and love and a heart-wrung cry
I can play the hero still.
My feet are firm on the steep, straight way, though I doubt if I understand;
Whether you lead or follow me brother, let us go hand in hand!
And stay not behind, dear brother of mine, on the road to the Promised Land.