MY COUNTRY
by David J. Fant, Lift. D. O v e r a century and a quarter ago our national hymn “ America” was born. Written by Samuel Francis Smith, a Baptist clergyman, it was first publicly sung in Boston at a Fourth of July celebra tion.* It has since sung itself deep into the hearts of free men everywhere. No one was ever great who did not possess a degree of inspiration. This was inspiration at white heat, for at the time of writing, the author was on ly twenty-four years of age. When the fire fell, he seized a scrap of paper and within a half hour placed upon it the verses substantially as they stand today. Not every author lives to see his work approved, but this one did. “ I have heard it sung in many languages,” he said, “ more than halfway round the world, the last in Hebrew.” Oliver W endell Holmes, Harvard classmate of Smith, attributes the genius in “ America” to its very first word “ M y ,” a personal possessive which instantly strikes a silver chord in every patriot’s heart. “ M Y country, ’tis o f thee.” “ That little pronoun did it all, and will forever do it,” said Holmes, brilliant poet and keenest w it of his generation. “ W h y couldn’t any of the rest of us have thought of that? That puts “ America” in the hearts of the people, and because of it Sam Smith will live when Longfellow and Whittier and all the rest o f us have gone into oblivion.” Holmes was close to a great truth. God is like that. There are many people who know H im on ly in a remote, objective, impersonal sense. They acknowledge Him as Creator, and admit that the world offers abun dant p roof’ of a Master Workman. But they have never acquainted themselves with H im so they can say, “ M Y God.” Such relationship is by no means unusual. There was doubting Thomas.1He had sat at the feet of Jesus, listened to His marvelous words, witnessed His mirac ulous works. Yet he did not really know Him. For when the Saviour was raised from the dead, he said, “ E xcept I shall see in his hands the print o f the nails . . . I w ill not b elieve .” “ Reach hither th y finger,” Jesus urged, “ behold m y hands . . . be not faithless, but believing.” Convinced, the doubter exclaimed, “ M Y Lord and M Y God.” What does it matter though the world be filled with gold, if none of it belongs to you? What though all your friends en joy abounding health if yours is gone? What though God fills all the world with His Spirit, if you possess H im not? The glorious truth is, you can make Christ yours — 14
a personal, priceless, eternal possession. The promise is, “ A s m any as received him , to them gave he pow er to becom e the Son o f God.” 2 Focus the telescope of faith, and the distant God will be brought near.
W H E N I T H IN K OF TH E FLAG I see a ship with its shadow moving over the sea, Not for gold or a nation's conquest, but to be free; I can hear the roar on that rugged shore Of the new-found haven And I feel the place on the great Rock's face Where their prints are graven. I can hear the tramp of the patriots marching over the hill, I can catch a gleam in the old north belfry signalling still; And I see the brave, and the blood they gave As it writes the story In the bars of red, to the unknown dead For a nation's glory. I can hear the hum of the mill wheels turning, grinding the grain, And I see the line of the wagons creeping over the plain . . . Refugees from across the seas Where their cries have drifted To the one who waits at the harbor gates With her light uplifted. I feel the throb of a deep thanksgiving moving my hea rt, That in the work of a mighty nation I am a part . . . God save the land that the Pilgrims planned And the flag we cherish, That our freedom here which we hold so dear Shall never perish. — Ruth Gibbs Zwall “ M y Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine.” *W ritten in February 1832, it was sung that same year by Sunday school children in the Park Street Church, Boston, Mass. iSt. John 20:25-28 2St. John 1:12 Printed by permission of the American Tract Society, 5/3 West 166th Street, New York 32, New York. THE K IN G 'S BUSINESS Believe, accept, obey. Then you can sing from your heart,
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