PEACE.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume 1, Issue 12, 1 September 1900, Page 905

PEACE.

The vision of the dying saint, Love's minister, she will assuage The dream of the philosopher ; The groans and travail of the soil : Earth's fountain-note in every plaint, Creation's piteous heritage Sad earth, all-ignorant of her. Of patient woe mid man's turmoil. Peace ! G-lorious Peace ! she will descend Love's minister, she will transfuse "When Love is ruler of the sphere, The moan, tlie wail, the dirge of life, Eevealing man to man as friend, In her serene symphonic muse ; And building Heaven's own kingdom here. And sing the joyousness of life.

Love's counsellor, she will descry The secret of each element ; And render ocean, land and sky To human thought subservient. Black howling horrors of the pole, Sahara's fiercely langorous breath, Poor India's swamps — she will ensoul, Subdue, direct in her bright faith. Electric height, volcanic deep, Dread seismic menace she will scan ; All spells that now with Nature keep; And give imperialism to Man. Strong- visioned, truly, humbly wise, Thrice-reverent, she will gaze afar ; Still noting vaster harmonies, And stars beyond the farthest star. Devoutly studious of the weed, The stone, the wave, the insects hum ; Perchance in some faint sign to read The mystery of the cosmic sum. And evermore attuned in awe Of One, unnameable, infinite ; Grlad in the trust that perfect law Ordains, designs and rules aright.

Ah ! heritors of that happy time; Proud victors in august emprise ; Te conquerors of want and crime, And myriad-multiple disease. Brave soldiers of humanity ; True comrades of your fellow men ; " Life ! life !" not "Death!" will be your cry, And Earth shall know her heroes then ! Par other ministries we wage, Pale prisoners we, without release ; And blindly falteringly presage The mighty victories of Peace. For Love seems far, and hate is here ; Hyena, vulture, serpent hate ; Hate breeding hate, revenge and fear ; And linking us in coils of fate. Love ! speed thy coming ! speed to save A world so madly passion-torn ! Warm, rich, sweet life we, too, would crave, Wandering in wastes of death and scorn. 0 Love ! 0, Love ! Thine, only thine, The power to bid Earth's wrongs surcease ; Come, in thy majesty divine ! Come thou, and thy evangel — Peace ! "W. Sheueiff Bain.