THE DAWN OF PEACE.

Sweet dawn of peace, how lovely is thy breaking!

With summer blossoms round thy smiling brow,

From troubled dreams of dead and dying, waking,

Gladly we hasten forth to greet thee now.

Heaven’s brightest gems are gleaming in thy tresses;

Thy voice of melody bids discord cease;

And ’neath the magic of thy fond caresses,

All earth grows beautiful, fair dawn of peace.

Earth’s feathered minstrels plume their wings with gladness,

And hail thy coming with a burst of song;

While weary Age, bowed down with care and sadness,

Passes contented through life’s busy throng.

What though the summer of our lives be over,

Our steps may falter, but our hearts rejoice,

When, o’er fair fields of fragrant crimson clover,

Steals the dear music of thy heavenly voice.

The nation kneels in humble adoration,

For angels follow in thy glittering train,

Singing sweet hymns of praise; while all creation

Mingles its voice in the triumphant strain.

No bloodstains mar thy robe of snowy whiteness,

Though thou hast paused o’er many a gory bed,

Shedding a halo of celestial brightness

Round the still forms of the unburied dead.

To the lone mother by her childless ingle,

Bright as a star thy radiant face appears;

And golden hopes, like morning sunbeams, mingle

With the pure fountain of her joyous tears.

Fades the dark memory of long nights of sorrow;

Her worn cheek glows; her heart’s wild doubtings cease.

To Love and Home, her boy shall come to-morrow,

Borne in thy pitying arms, blest dawn of peace.

Delighted childhood flings white chains of daisies,

As Youth’s best offering, at thy gracious feet;

The dome of heaven seems echoing forth thy praises;

Where muffled drums made mourning, glad hearts beat;

And while the merry lark is proudly soaring

In joyous rapture from the emerald sod,

Pæans of praise our grateful souls are pouring,

For thou art welcome as a smile from God!

Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh.