The White River

Who is he who leadeth legions
In glittering array, while the clouds
Are tipped in living lightning,
And the sky overlaced with its brilliancy?
His thunderous drums sound o'er eternity,
And the face of his host is smiling, lit
By youth and filled with the wine which is love.
Sweeping surely, with that tread which is sprung
With the urge of victory, they come,
Streaming forth from out that realm,
Which no man's eye hath beheld.
Who is he with proud head uplifted,
Walking before, a true leader
Whose feet mark the way! And they who follow,
Streaming out the heavens like a white river
Glistening with purity,
Purifying each bank which presseth it.
Oh, they hasten, hasten, following,
Like a host of worshippers, their captain.
Each face uplifted, each tongue uttering
The word advance! Like the lips
Of some hungry sea they press upon us-
Surely, surely.
But who is he who leadeth the glittering host,
With no sword but with hands outspread
As if in welcoming?
And they that follow grow surely stronger.
The white river singeth with new waters,
And leapeth, to chafe upon its way.
Oh, the water of its flowing shall wash earth,
Wiping its bleeding brow.
Oh, he who leadeth the host shall stand
As the symbol of the field-
Exalted to the kingdom, and the kingdom
Defeated unto the field. Leveling the ranks
Of office shall the water sweep,
And he who leadeth the host shall send forth
The call of battle which is Love-and the
Answering challenge which is likewise Love!
Upon the brink of this crystal stream
Which is singing about him shall he stand
And call command: "Advance!
Let the new King take his throne, for he is born,
And his scepter is within his hand!"
Oh, who is he who hath led them?-
Jesus of Nazareth.