In the midst of the "darkest hour" of Psalms 42-43: "Then will I go unto the altar of God... yea, upon the harp will I praise thee."
"Take down thy harp," Nay, let it hang! 'Twill give but clang In these dire days when broods, as once
O'er the abyss, Dread darkness covering all the earth. When atom-bomb, And rays-of-death. And scourge of plague May drop from skies, and man become a fox, a mole --
"Take down thy harp," Nay, let it hang!
And yet, and yet -- Take down thy harp! For darkest hour It still holds power, As harp of David once of old --Harp surely heard At temple altar's sacred shrine. Let hope revive And faith press on! Go forth, look round; Behold, the world is fair and skies are azure blue!
--Take down thy harp!
by Einar Atair Paulanton St. Paul, Minn.
This poem appeared in the Lutheran Companion, Sept. 8, 1948