The American Consummation.

The day of War is over
When, to please a Prince alone,
A thousand slaughtered wretches
Were to the eagles thrown.
There is gloom upon its glory,
There is rust upon its sword,
For the day of Peace is dawning
In the coming of the Lord.

Arise in Christian manhood
And join the joyous throng,
With Jesus in your music
And His mercy in your song;
For His blood hath been the ransom
For the World, for you, for me,
And His love o'erflows the mountains
In an everlasting sea.

For the Christ who rose in glory
Shall return to earth the same,
And the warring hosts shall vanish
At the voicing of His name;
And the stars shall flash new splendors
At the fulness of His grace,
For the Heavens reflect His glory,
And the Earth shall show His face.

Then, with Mercy in the mighty,
And forgiveness in the strong,
The meek shall be our judges,
And the Right shall rule the Wrong;
And, with one acclaim, all peoples
Will the Love of Jesus praise,
And their Glory Hallelujahs
Shall fill the happy days.

A. H. Laidlaw

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A. H. Laidlaw

The Dying Soldier To The Nightingale.

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

Bird Of The Summering North.

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

Tears, Tears.

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

Custer.

A. H. Laidlaw, Simple Poetry

English

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The American Ça Ira.

With a sullen, setting Sun,
It will come!
With the days of Despots done,
It will come!
With a sullen, setting Sun,
With the days of Despots done,
With the wrath of God begun,
It will come!
It will come!

With a ruddy, bloody Moon,
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Hymn

In The Time Of War And Tumults

O Lord Almighty, Thou whose hands
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Remember not the days of shame,
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    The spirits humbly brave,
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    The love that loved the slave:

The race that strove to rule Thine earth
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The Coming Of The King.

"O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay thy atones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires. And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones. And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children." Isaiah, liv. 11-13.


As the sand of the desert is smitten
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When The War Is Over. A Christmas Lay.

I.

Ah! the happy Christmas times!
    Times we all remember; -
Times that flung a ruddy glow
    O'er the gray December; -
Will they never come again,
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Never wear a remnant more
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Must the mother promise on,
    While her smiles dissemble,
And she speaks right quietly,
    Lest her voice should tremble: -

"Darlings! wait till father comes -
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II.

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Paean

Now, joy and thanks forevermore!
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The cold gray pathway of the morn!
O weary hours! O night of years!
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How mocked before the tyrant train,
As, one by one, the true and kind
Fell fainting in our path of pain!
They died, their brave hearts breaking slow,
But, self-forgetful to the last,
In words of cheer and bugle blow
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