 |
| I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
|
Peace.
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| II. |
|
| I. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| VII. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| X. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| 15. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Peace.
A shout of gladness is heard afar;
They are greeting a glowing triumphal car;
And the nations bend to the gentle sway
Of white-robed Peace, with her olive spray.
She is come! and the tongues of ten thousand bells
Re-echo the shout through our island dells.
They are greeting a glowing triumphal car;
And the nations bend to the gentle sway
Of white-robed Peace, with her olive spray.
She is come! and the tongues of ten thousand bells
Re-echo the shout through our island dells.
She is come! Like a star from the darksome wave
Arising, o'er many an unknown grave;
Like the moon, when her sad eclipse is past,
Her silver fetters o'er earth doth cast;
Like the sun, dispelling with ardent might
The gloomy spectres and shades of night.
Arising, o'er many an unknown grave;
Like the moon, when her sad eclipse is past,
Her silver fetters o'er earth doth cast;
Like the sun, dispelling with ardent might
The gloomy spectres and shades of night.
197
She is come! Like the falling of cool, sweet dew,
Like a buried flower which Spring doth renew;
Like the burst of a rivulet's laughing waves
From the death-like glacier's awful caves;
As a pearl gleams forth from its dark, rough shell,
She is come! and her song is War's funeral knell.
Like a buried flower which Spring doth renew;
Like the burst of a rivulet's laughing waves
From the death-like glacier's awful caves;
As a pearl gleams forth from its dark, rough shell,
She is come! and her song is War's funeral knell.
She is come! with her lyre all newly strung
For the lay which the Bethlehem angels sung:
Glad harmony dwells in its every tone,
Triumphantly ruling the song alone;
For discord hath melted before her sway,
Like as snow-wreath yields to the warm spring ray.
For the lay which the Bethlehem angels sung:
Glad harmony dwells in its every tone,
Triumphantly ruling the song alone;
For discord hath melted before her sway,
Like as snow-wreath yields to the warm spring ray.
She is come! with her diamond-gleaming zone,
To bind Earth's children before her throne,
And her flowing mantle, which every trace
Of War's wild fury shall soon erase;
Her golden crown is returning wealth,
And her balmy breath is the nation's health.
To bind Earth's children before her throne,
And her flowing mantle, which every trace
Of War's wild fury shall soon erase;
Her golden crown is returning wealth,
And her balmy breath is the nation's health.
She is come! with blessings for each and all,
For the rich and poor, for the great and small,
For our own loved Queen, in her royal chair,
For the poor man toiling for daily fare,
For the senate-hall, for the busy mart,
For the striving mind, for the loving heart.
For the rich and poor, for the great and small,
For our own loved Queen, in her royal chair,
For the poor man toiling for daily fare,
For the senate-hall, for the busy mart,
For the striving mind, for the loving heart.
She is come! As an angel from Heaven above,
With her smile of joy and her look of love;
Each grim foreboding to chase away,
Each tenderly anxious fear to allay;
To bid the death-thunder of War to cease:
Then hail to the long, long sighed for Peace!
With her smile of joy and her look of love;
Each grim foreboding to chase away,
Each tenderly anxious fear to allay;
198
Then hail to the long, long sighed for Peace!
She is come! But e'en 'neath her radiant sway
There are those who sorrow each weary day;
Who weep for the noble, the loved, the brave,
That are resting now in an Eastern grave:
Then oh! for them let our prayers ascend,
To the orphan's Father, the widow's Friend.
There are those who sorrow each weary day;
Who weep for the noble, the loved, the brave,
That are resting now in an Eastern grave:
Then oh! for them let our prayers ascend,
To the orphan's Father, the widow's Friend.
She is come! Then our anthems shall loudly rise
To the gracious Ruler of earth and skies,
Who hath poured on us from His chalice of love
A sparkling drop of the Peace above;
And hath stilled the dark billows of War with a word!
Yes! our grateful songs shall be widely heard.
To the gracious Ruler of earth and skies,
Who hath poured on us from His chalice of love
A sparkling drop of the Peace above;
And hath stilled the dark billows of War with a word!
Yes! our grateful songs shall be widely heard.
She is come! But oh! she may pass away,
Like the fleeting brightness of April's ray,
And War's fierce tempest arise once more!
Then in faith let us ‘onward and upward’ soar,
Where the many jarrings of earth shall cease,
In the glorious reign of the Prince of Peace.
Like the fleeting brightness of April's ray,
And War's fierce tempest arise once more!
Then in faith let us ‘onward and upward’ soar,
Where the many jarrings of earth shall cease,
In the glorious reign of the Prince of Peace.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |