Vermont telegraph. [volume] (Brandon [Vt.]) 1828-1843, 1841-03-24

peace snail III tne WOltd' HO PiONS
will glow atlbe pictured vision ofthose love-
ly scenes, and breathe anew the prayer,
"Tby kingdom come"
ISAIAH ga.
BYE CHAPLIN.
There sweeps rush of armies past with banners
proud and high,
And clarions wait their thrilling strains rium.
plant to the sky;
No dread munton in their ranks, no fearful steel,
they bear,
No "warrior garments rolled in blood" no panoply
they wear.
fresh and green,
And in each lifted eye the light peace and joy ia
seen;
And from ten thousand quivcring lips there gushes
forth the cry
"Let tears be dried let glad hearts sing the song of
victory!
Sing, by brgh. streams on pleasant hills, and in
the bowers Of home,
Sing by the affairs and the hearhs, the blessed time
has come
Our iron armour the field lies blnodless al and
crushed,
Our martial plumes are plucked and torn, our bat
tle-thunder hushed,
Our falchions we'll to ploughshares turn,-the days
ofstrife are Ger,
Our spears we'll beatto pruning booksellers shall
be war no more -
The weary soldier sits him down upon his thresh
old-stone,
4 4 loo. he Ill hIa
blooming son
soft fair cheek pressed to his and in an uptune'
eye
glistening tear melts to smie-his ~ife is kneel
ing by;
While the aged Grandsre bows his head, and hi
white and silvery hair
Is blending with the sunny locks Of the litle pratt
tier there.
The paace-dome is Lighted up, and its doors arr
opened wide,
To welcome him who enters with step OF kinglJ
pride
But there's no darkness on his brow and in BIZ
glance no wrath,
And lifted hands are pouring flowers, and, blessings
on his path:
Both hut and hall are glad this hour, the city's
ghdeu ldneSp
The hamlet spires, are echoing to the loud and bill
Iowy-strains,-
"Our falchons we'll ploughshares turn 1.-THE days
Of strife are Ger;
Our spears we'll beat to pruning hooks,-thers shal
be war no more"
mons to the breeze,
Ill, l..lI II
foamy seas;
Safely their bright prows cleave the waves there is
no foe to fear,
No murderous shot, no rude attack, no vengefui foe
is near.
Where battle strobe DER ruined heaps and carnage
shook its brand,
And red blood gushed, the purple grupes and clus-
tering harvest stand;
And dews from bending branches drip, and culver
in the flowers,
And merry groups are rushing out from cots and
shady bowers,
There is no sword our hearths to stain no flames
our roofs 70 spoil;
There robber-hordes to seize the treasures Of
our toll.
Ho! sing ye, them the harvest song, and twist the
why leaves,
And let your shining sickes laugh among the plumy
sheaves
Our falchions we'll oploughshares turh,-the days
Of strife are DER,
The spears wen beat to pruning hooks-there shall
be war no more"
Nation with nation strives no more the golden
chain Of love,
Through the wide earth links soul to soul descend
ing from above
The Indian by his hundred streams, the Tartar il
his SHOWS,
The Ethiop meath the burning sun, its gentle i'm
pulse knows:
From every tribe, in kneeing ranks, upon the sien
air
Up 10 the Throne of thrones" go forth the sacred
words of prayer;
"All praise to him. whose hand alone, whose owl
right hand hath done
This blessed work, and made the hearts Of all hi
children one!"
There, like the strains Ephratah heard hymned b
the angel choir,
From every lip song breaks forth, and sweeps o'e
every Tyre;
The peOpled mart the temple-arch sends out the il
biee;
1t echoes from the fores,-shrines and green isle
Of tho sea-
"Our iachions wen to ploughshares turn,.the day
OF strife are DER,
Our spears we'll beat to pruning hooks,-there sha
be war no morel"
AGRIC-U LIT URAL.