He Hath Borne Our Griefs

Lo! I will declare the best of dreams which I dreamt in the middle of the night, when human creatures lay at rest. It seemed to me that I saw a wondrous tree rising aloft, encompassed with light, the brightest of crosses. All that sign was overlaid with gold; fair jewels were set at the surface of the earth; there were also five upon the cross-beam. All the angels of God, fair by creation, looked on there; verily that was no malefactor’s cross, but holy spirits gazed on Him there, men upon earth and all this glorious universe. – “The Dream of the Rood”


I hate Shelley, Keats, and Byron with all my heart, mind, and soul. I hate them because they were anti-poets with a gift for words. They used their verbal skills to attack the poetical heart of existence. Keats spoke for the satanic triumvirate of anti-poets when he wrote, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty; — That is all, Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” Yes, there is an element of truth in Keats’ statement. But we must remember Banquo’s warning to Macbeth after both men faced the witches on the heath.

But ‘tis strange;
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s
In deepest consequence.

The honest trifle contained in Keats’ credo is that truth and beauty are connected. The lie at the center of Keats’ formulation is that beauty, and therefore truth, consists of the outward show. Keats and his fellow diabolists, Shelley and Byron, chose the same caskets of gold and silver that Bassanio rejected:

So may the outward shows be least themselves;
The world is still deceiv’d with ornament…
The seeming truth which cunning times put on
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
‘Tween man and man; but thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threaten’st than dost promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence,
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence!

Merchant of Venice

The problem with Keats, Shelley, and Byron is that they were mesmerized by the natural world. They made that world all in all. But the natural world only has significance as an outer symbol of the spiritual world within. The antique Europeans stood before the cross of Christ, the leaden casket of existence, and they saw that the inner substance was pure gold. The great Anglo Saxon poem, “The Dream of the Rood,” speaks to us still:

Wondrous was the cross of victory, and I, stained with sins, stricken with foulness;
I saw the glorious tree joyfully gleaming, adorned with garments, decked with gold; jewels had fitly covered the tree of the Lord.
Yet through that gold I could perceive the former strife of wretched men, that it had once bled on the right side.
I was all troubled with sorrows; I was full of fear at the fair sight.
I saw the changeful sign alter in garments and colours; at times it was bedewed with moisture, stained with the flowing of blood, at times adorned with treasure. (1)

Who saw that the bloody cross was also “adorned with garments, decked with gold?” Our people saw such a vision. That vision was and is the epitome of beauty and truth. It was the task of the great despoilers, the Shelleys, Keats, Byrons, Voltaires, and Rosseaus, to create a new beauty and a new truth. In the beginning of the onslaught, Satan’s minions were excellent counterfeiters. The anti-poetic triumvirate wrote well, and Voltaire and Rosseau could turn a clever phrase. But there is an incredible moral ugliness at the core of the anti-poetical poets such as Keats, Shelley, and Byron and the anti-Christian philosophers such as Voltaire and Rousseau. Subsequent generations of anti-poetical wordsmiths and anti-Christian philosophers have followed in their train, but they lack the verbal gifts and the cleverness of their satanic predecessors. Of course they no longer need verbal gifts or clever repartee any more. First evil is opposed, then when the evil doers will not go away without a fight, evil is tolerated. Then, over time, evil is embraced and becomes intertwined with the good until the good is blended out of existence like weeds blend the good fruits of the earth out of existence.

The European people live in Satan’s unweeded garden because they no longer see beauty and truth in the cross of Christ. They have been blinded by the glittering façade of modernity while failing to look behind the façade to the superficial rotten core of liberalism. What Karl Barth said of Feuerbach we must say of the liberals: We have heard them speak, and we have heard something that is disgustingly, nauseatingly trivial. We will always be the captives of the honest trifles, the disgustingly, nauseatingly evil trivialities of the devil, when we fail to see the cross of Christ as the penultimate of beauty and truth.

You can now get a Ph.D. without being able to write a complete sentence. And the average person speaks like Alfred Jingle, who spoke in broken phrases. Still, outside the black community, the general public is literate. They can read their cell phones and write in computer Jingle-ese. But there is a huge literacy crisis throughout the European nations. The European people have become culturally illiterate. They have lost all contact with the culture that was grounded in the cross of Christ. A few weeks ago I brought home a book purchased in one of the last remaining book stores in this area. The book was printed in 1911, and when I opened the book I found a program from a 1911 grammar school graduation ceremony tucked within the pages. The program revealed the incredible culture gap between us, the modern Europeans, and them, the antique Europeans. The grammar school grads wrote original poems:

May Foster – Queen June’s Arrival
Ruth Anderson – To the Daisies
Joel Rosenthal – Nature’s Art
Helen Soden – The Robin
Sylvan Marco — Lincoln
Bertha Abendroth — To a Meadow Lark
Pearl Smith — In the Forest
Jack Doron — Man’s Handiwork
Florence Campbell — Farewell to Forestville

They performed a German play:

Die Doppelüberraschung

Herr Ewing — George Lederer

Fra Ewing — Marion Beveridge
Hertha — Naomi Proudfit
Bertha — Leona Proudfit
Bella — Florence Seibert
Wanda — Annie Petersen

And they ended the graduation (obviously it was a German suburb) with a German folksong. All this from 8th graders! Three years after that 1911 graduation, the European people were destined to leave ancient Europe behind and start on the new road mapped out by the anti-European revolutionaries such as Shelley, Keats, Byron, and Rousseau. Now that we have had over one hundred years of that new European world, what is our judgement of it?

From the Christian standpoint there can be only one judgement of 20th and 21st century Europe. It must be condemned and rejected as we condemn and reject Satan. And yet the churchmen tell us that we must become one with the new Europe, the Europe that rejects the antique Europeans and their God. The Pope Francis-type Christians claim they are simply rejecting the racist past of the antique Europeans, they are not rejecting Christ. But that is a lie. Let us suppose that a rose can only grow in one type of soil. If you go throughout the world destroying that soil, haven’t you killed the rose? The European people were the good soil, in which the Christian rose, our Lord and Savior, came to fruition. What grows in the unweeded garden of Satan? Feminism, negro worship, abortion, sodomy, and blasphemy grow and flourish in Satan’s ‘Eden.’

The late Samuel Francis and John Tyndall were heroic men who wanted their kith and kin to survive in the white hating world. But they always saw white people as a changeless aggregate called white people. They did not see the Christian dynamic at work in the European people’s past and they did not see the anti-Christian dynamic at work in modern Europe. They kept saying that there was still time to democratically save the European people if they could be persuaded to vote white. Such logic does not take into account the fact that a liberal will never vote white. He will always side with the colored races because the colored races hate the white Christ-bearing race almost as much as the liberal hates the Christ-bearing race. And even if a white candidate wins an election (the Trump victory was perceived as a white populist victory as envisioned by Samuel Francis), if he does not look on his victory as the beginning of a return to old Europe, then the victory is a delaying action, it is not a victory. What are we as a people if we are not the people who dream of the Rood planted in the midst of Europe? There can be no blending of the two civilizations. In ancient Europe our people saw that the inner core of the bloody cross on which our Savior died was bedecked with jewels. In modern Europe, the liberals see a glittering casket of silver and gold, but when we open up that casket we behold the rotting corpse of Europe. The antique Europeans made much of that which was within; the modern Europeans worship the outer show that covers up the sickness within.

We cannot survive as a people unless we love our people when they were a people, a people who lived, loved, and hated within the shadow of the Holy Rood. What does it avail us if we wage democratic battles with the liberals in order to secure a place in Liberaldom? We can only win such battles by relinquishing our white souls; we must become white-hating liberals in order to enter Liberaldom. And what good is it to gain admittance to that world, the liberals’ world, if we must forfeit our souls to gain that world?

The two European worlds, the pre-20th century Europe and the 20th and 21st century Europe, are as different as heaven and hell. I frequently meet older grazers – my parents were two such grazers – who lament the passing of some European custom, such as Christian marriage, in which they believed. But the moment you tell such grazers that what they dislike is not an aberration of the democratic process, but is instead the natural consequence of the democratic process, you lose the grazers. They dismiss such wild-eyed attacks on the democratic way and go on complaining about the ‘aberrations’ while still worshipping democracy.

There are things being done in the name of democracy and diversity throughout the European nations that cry out to heaven for vengeance. No plea for mercy will stop the liberals from their merciless killing spree. Babies will continue to be aborted, and whites will continue to be slaughtered until white men decide to replant the Holy Rood of Christ in Europe’s green and pleasant land. Certainly whites should stockpile guns, but guns are useless without the will to use them in defense of what a man holds closest to his heart. What do we hold closest to our heart? I see the same vision as the author of “The Dream of the Rood”:

Then the young Hero – He was God almighty – firm and unflinching, stripped Himself;
He mounted on the high cross, brave in the sight of many, when He was minded to redeem mankind. Then I trembled when the Hero clasped me; yet I durst not bow to the earth, fall to the level of the ground, but I must needs stand firm. (1)

And we must needs stand firm. We won’t be part of the anti-civilization that exalts a man to the extent that He betrays Christ and His people. The foolishness of Christ, who was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities, must once again become our foolishness. We shall never die as individuals or as a people so long as our hearts remain with Him who died on the Holy Rood. +

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(1)The Dream of the Rood

Lo! I will declare the best of dreams which I dreamt in the middle of the night, when human creatures lay at rest.
It seemed to me that I saw a wondrous tree rising aloft, encompassed with light, the brightest of crosses.
All that sign was overlaid with gold; fair jewels were set at the surface of the earth; there were also five upon the cross-beam.
All the angels of God, fair by creation, looked on there; verily that was no malefactor’s cross, but holy spirits gazed on Him there, men upon earth and all this glorious universe.
Wondrous was the cross of victory, and I, stained with sins, stricken with foulness;
I saw the glorious tree joyfully gleaming, adorned with garments, decked with gold; jewels had fitly covered the tree of the Lord.
Yet through that gold I could perceive the former strife of wretched men, that it had once bled on the right side.
I was all troubled with sorrows; I was full of fear at the fair sight.
I saw the changeful sign alter in garments and colours; at times it was bedewed with moisture, stained with the flowing of blood, at times adorned with treasure.
Yet I, lying there a long space, beheld in sorrow the Saviour’s cross, till I heard it speak.
Then the most excellent tree began to utter words:

‘Long ago was it – I still remember it – that I was cut down at the edge of the forest, moved from my trunk.
Strong foes took me there, fashioned me to be a spectacle for them, bade me raise up their felons.
Men bore me on their shoulders there, till they set me on a hill; many foes made me fast there.
I saw then the Lord of mankind hasten with great zeal that He might be raised upon me.
Then I durst not there bow or break against the Lord’s behest, when I saw the surface of the earth shake;
I could have felled all the foes, yet I stood firm.

‘Then the young Hero – He was God almighty – firm and unflinching, stripped Himself;
He mounted on the high cross, brave in the sight of many, when He was minded to redeem mankind. Then I trembled when the Hero clasped me; yet I durst not bow to the earth, fall to the level of the ground, but I must needs stand firm.

‘As a rood was I raised up; I bore aloft the mighty King, the Lord of heaven; I durst not stoop.
They pierced me with dark nails; the wounds are still plain to view in me, gaping gashes of malice;
I durst not do hurt to any of them. They bemocked us both together.
I was all bedewed with blood, shed from the Man’s side, after He had sent forth His Spirit.
I have endured many stern trials on the hill; I saw the God of hosts violently stretched out; darkness with its clouds had covered the Lord’s corpse, the fair radiance; a shadow went forth, dark beneath the clouds.
All creation wept, lamented the King’s death; Christ was on the cross.

‘Yet eager ones came there from afar to the Prince; I beheld all that.
I was grievously troubled with sorrows, yet I bowed to the hands of men in humbleness with great zeal. There they took Almighty God, lifted Him from the heavy torment; the warriors left me standing, covered with blood; I was all stricken with shafts.
Then they laid Him down, weary of limb; stood at His body’s head; there they looked on the Lord of heaven; and He rested there for a space, tired after the mighty strife.
Then in sight of the slayers men began to fashion Him a tomb; they hewed it out of bright stone; they placed therein the Lord of victories.
Then, unhappy in the eventide, they began to sing a dirge, when they were about to depart in their sorrow from the glorious Prince; He rested there alone.

‘Yet for a long space we stood there in our place streaming with blood after the voice of warriors had risen up.
Cold grew the corpse, fair house of the Soul. Then they began to cut us all down to the earth; that was a dread trial.
They buried us in a deep pit. Yet there the followers of the Lord, friends, found me out; (then they raised me from the ground), decked me with gold and silver.

‘Now, my loved man, thou mayest hear that I have endured bitter anguish, grievous sorrows.
Now the time has come when far and wide over the earth and all this splendid creation, men do me honour; they worship this sign.
On me the Son of God suffered for a space; wherefore now I rise glorious beneath the heavens, and I can heal all who fear me.

‘Long ago I became the severest of torments, most hateful to men, before I opened to mankind the true path of life.
Lo! The Prince of glory, the Lord of heaven honoured me then beyond the trees of the forest, even as Almighty God also honoured his mother Mary herself above the whole race of women.

‘Now I bid thee, my loved man, to declare this vision unto men; reveal in words that it is the glorious tree on which Almighty God suffered for the many sins of mankind and the old deeds of Adam.

‘There He tasted death; yet God rose up again with His mighty power to help man.
Then He ascended to heaven; hither again will the Lord Himself make His way to this world to seek mankind on the day of judgment, Almighty God and His angels with Him, when He who has power of judgment will judge each one according as he merits in this fleeting life.
No one can be without fear there at the word the Lord says: He will ask before the multitude where the man is who for God’s sake would taste bitter death, as He aforetime did on the cross; but then they will be afraid, and think little of what they begin to say to Christ.
No one need be terrified there who erstwhile bears in his breast the best of signs, but each soul which desires to dwell with the Lord must through the cross seek the kingdom which is far from earth.’

Then glad at heart I worshipped the cross with great zeal, where I was alone with none to bear me company.
My soul was eager to depart; I felt many yearnings within me.
Now I have joy of life that I can seek the triumphant cross alone more often than all men, do it full honour.
Great is the desire for that in my heart, and to the cross I turn for help.
I have not many powerful friends on earth, but they have gone away hence from the joys of the world, have sought the King of heaven, live now in heaven with God the Father, dwell in glory; and each day I look for the time when the Lord’s cross, which erstwhile I saw here on earth, will fetch me from this fleeting life, and bring me then where there is great gladness, joy in heaven, where God’s people are placed at the feast, where there is bliss unending; and will set me then where I may thereafter dwell in glory, enjoy happiness fully with the saints.
May the Lord, who here on earth suffered aforetime on the cross for the sins of men, be a friend unto me; He has redeemed us and has given us life, a heavenly home.

Hope was born anew with blessedness and joy for those who before endured the burning.
The Son was triumphant on His journey, mighty and successful, when He, the Master almighty, came with the throng, the company of spirits, into God’s kingdom – to gladness of the angels and all the saints who before dwelt in heaven in glory, when their Lord, Almighty God, came where his home was.

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