Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FORTY CENTS A YEAR, by AMOS RUSSEL WELLS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FORTY CENTS A YEAR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: When our ever-living saviour passed away from earthly eyes
Last Line: Build the kingdom of your captain on these latest shores of time!
Subject(s): Charity; Protestantism; Philanthropy


(The average gift to foreign missions of the
Protestant Christians of the world -- at the
time when this poem was written. It is a
little larger now, but still disgracefully small.)

When our ever-living Saviour passed away from earthly eyes,
Sounded forth this great commandment from the eager, opening skies:
"Go ye, go ye, teach all nations, boldly teach them and baptize."

So they went, those men anointed with a power from on high;
So they went, to sneers and hunger, to the mob's vindictive cry;
Went to suffer racking tortures and triumphantly to die.

All their life was but one purpose, that the life of Christ should be
Spread abroad among earth's millions as the waters fill the sea.
So the heroes died, and, dying, left their task for you and me.

Children of the saints and martyrs, with all peace and plenty blest,
What obedience are we giving to the Saviour's last behest?
What desire, what self-denial, thought, and prayer, and eager zest?

In the stead of what the martyrs bore through many a conflict drear,
In the stead of homeless wanderings, bitter fightings, cruel fear, --
Ah, the shame! -- we modern Christians give -- just forty cents a year!

Forty cents a year to open all the eyes of all the blind!
Forty cents a year to gather all the lost whom Christ would find!
Forty cents a year to carry hope and joy to all mankind!

Worthy followers of the prophets, we who hold our gold so dear!
True descendants of the martyrs, Christ held far and coin held near!
Bold co-workers with the Almighty, -- with our forty cents a year!

See amid the darkened nations what the signs of promise are,
Fires of love and truth enkindled, burning feebly, sundered far;
Here a gleam and there a glimmer of that holy Christmas star.

See the few, our saints, our heroes, battling bravely, hand to hand,
Where the myriad-headed horrors of the pit possess the land,
Striving, one against a million, to obey our Lord's command!

Mighty is the host infernal, richly stored its ranging tents,
Strong its age-encrusted armor and its fortresses immense,
And to meet that regnant evil we are sending -- forty cents!

Christians, have you heard the story, how the basest man of men
Flung his foul, accursed silver in abhorrence back again?
"Thirty pieces" was the purchase of the world's Redeemer -- then.

Now -- it's forty cents, in copper, for the Saviour has grown cheap.
Now -- to sell our Lord and Master we need only stay asleep.
Now -- the cursed Judas money is the money that we keep.

But behold! I see the dawning of a large and generous day;
See the coming of a legion; read its banners: "Pray, and Pay";
And I see the palm of triumph springing up along its way.

These are they of open vision, open purses, open heart,
Free from mammon's heavy bondage and the serfdom of the mart,
Where the woe is, where the sin is, come to bear a hero's part.

They have beaten out their coin into weapons for the fight;
Glows the gold and gleams the silver in this legion of the light;
Selfishness and sloth behind them, onward now for God and right!

Lift your banners, loyal legion; swell your ranks from every clime!
All the powers and thrones in heaven strengthen your resolves sublime!
Build the kingdom of your Captain on these latest shores of time!





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