82 ONLY A WORD.

Till our world, so sad and weary,
Finds the balmy rest of peace--
Peace to silence all her discords--
Peace till war and crime shall cease.

Peace to fall like gentle showers,
Or on parchéd flowers dew,
Till our hearts proclaim with gladness:
Lo, He maketh all things new.



"FISHERS OF MEN."

I had a dream, a varied dream:
Before my ravished sight
The city of my Lord arose,
With all its love and light.

The music of a myriad harps
Flowed out with sweet accord;
And saints were casting down their crowns
In homage to our Lord.


"FISHERS OF MEN." 83