And fields are hushed, and cities sleep,—

Lord! is not this the hour of Peace?

When Infancy at Evening tries

By turns to climb each Parent’s knees,

And gazing meets their raptured eyes,—

Lord! is not this the hour of Peace?

In golden pomp when autumn smiles;

And every vale its rich increase

In man’s full barns exulting piles;—

Lord! is not this the hour of Peace?