Dear friends, we’ve met, as it is meet
That we should meet at such a time,
Each other and our host to greet,—
Or guest, ’tis all the same in rhyme.
No king nor queen do I revere;
The majesty of God I own.
An honest man, though poor, is peer
To him that sits upon a throne.
I long to see the coming day
When wicked wars and strifes shall cease,
And ignorance and crime give way
Before the march of truth and peace.
That welcome day is drawing near;
I sometimes think I see its dawn;
The trampling of the hosts I hear,
By science, truth and love led on.
I see the murderous cannon fused,
With its death-dealing shot and shell,
For making railway carwheels used,
Or civil railway tracks as well.
And small arms, too, will then be wrought
Into machines for cutting wheat;
While those who used them will be taught
To labor for their bread and meat.
God speed the day,—’tis bound to come,
But not as comes the lightning’s stroke;
But slowly, as the acorn dumb
Expands into the giant oak.
Now, reverend sir, I turn to you,
To say what all your flock well know;
You, as a pastor kind and true,
Have led the way we ought to go.
You have rejoiced in all our joys,
And sympathised with us in trouble;
You have baptized our girls and boys—
And often you have made them double.
With all your gifts and talents rare,
You meekly take the servants place,
And guard the sheep with jealous care
And hold the lambs in your embrace.