Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
For still the new transcends the old In signs and tokens manifold Slaves rise up men the olive waves, With roots deep set in battle graves.
Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.
You don't always win your battles, but it's good to know you fought.
Peace hath higher tests of manhood, than battle ever knew.
Our fellow-countrymen in chains Slaves - in a land of light and law Slaves - crouching on the very plains Where rolled the storms of Freedom's war.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories