Peace

 The following outlook toward universal peace was written by George Frederick Knowles:

Peace

When navies are forgotten

And fleets are useless things,

When the dove shall warm her bosom

Beneath the eagle's wings;

When memory of battles

At last is strange and old,

When nations have one banner

And creeds have found one fold;

When the Hand that sprinkles midnight

With its powdered drifts of suns

Has hushed this tiny tumult 

Of sects and swords and guns;

Then hate's last note of discord

In all God's worlds shall cease,

In the conquest which is service,

In the victory which is peace.

Only Waiting . . .

Only Waiting...

Only waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown;
Only waiting till the glimmer
Of the day's last breath is flown.
Till the night of earth is faded
From the heart once full of day;
Till the stars of heaven are breaking
Through the twilight soft and gray.

Only waiting till the reapers
Have the last sheaf gathered home;
For the summer time is faded,
And the autumn winds have come.
Quickly, reapers! gather quickly
The last ripe hours of my heart,
For the bloom of life is withered,
And I hasten to depart.

Only waiting till the angels
Open wide the mystic gate,
By whose side I long have lingered,
Weary, poor and desolate.
Even now I hear their footsteps,
And their voices far away;
If they call me, I am waiting,
Only waiting to obey.

Only waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown;
Only waiting till the glimmer
Of the day's last beam is flown;
Till from out the gathering darkness
Holy, deathless stars shall rise,
By whose light my soul shall gladly
Tread its pathway to the skies.

The Upward Calling

The Upward Calling

A voice is calling me, a Hand has grasped me,
By cords unseen my soul is upward drawn;
My heart has answered to that upward calling,
I clasp the Hand that lifts and leads me on.

I'm turning from the past that lies behind me,
I'm reaching forth unto the things before;
I've caught the taste of life's eternal fountains,
And all my being longs and thirsts for more.

A brooding Presence hovers o'er my spirit,
The Heavenly Dove my heart doth softly woo;
I catch bright visions of my heavenly calling
And all there is for me to be and do.

A mystic glory lingers all around me,
And all the air breathes out the eternal spring;
I feel the pulses of the New Creation,
And all things whisper of the Coming King.

And in my heart I hear the Spirit's whisper,
"The Bridegroom cometh, hasten to prepare!"
And with my vessels filled and lamps all burning
I'm going out to meet Him in the air.

All Saint's Day

All Saint's Day

from Hickes' Devotions

Wake, all my hopes, lift up your eyes
And crown your heads with mirth:
See how they shine beyond the skies,
Who once dwelt on our earth.

Peace, busy thoughts; away, vain cares,
That cloy us here below:
Let us go up above the spheres,
And to each order bow.

Hail, glorious Angels, heirs of light,
The high born sons of fire;
Whose heats burn chaste, whose flames shine bright,
All joy, yet all desire.

Hail, holy Saints, who long in hope,
Long in the shadow sate;
Till our victorious Lord set ope
Heaven's everlasting gate.

Hail, great Apostles of the Lamb,
Who brought that early ray,
Which from our Sun reflected came,
And made our first fair day.

Hail, generous Martyrs, whose strong hearts
Bravely rejoiced to prove,
How weak, pale Death, are all thy darts
Compared to those of Love.  

Hail, blessed Confessors, who died
A death too, love did give;
While your own flesh you crucified,
To make your Spirit live.

Hail, beauteous Virgins, whose chaste love
Renounced all fond desires;
Who wisely fixed your hearts above;
And burnt with heavenly fires.

Hail, all you happy Spirits above,
Who make that glorious ring,
About the sparkling throne of Love,
And there for ever sing.

Hail, and among your crowns of praise,
Present this little wreath,
Which, while your lofty notes you raise,
We humbly sing beneath.

All glory to the sacred Three,
One everliving Lord,
As at the first still may He be
Belov'd, obey'd, adored.