'BLESSED are the peace-makers, for they
God's children shall be called!'--so spake
The Prince of Peace, in mortal clay,
Who veiled his glory, for our sake.
The stormy pa**ions of the mind,
The boastful tongue and brow of pride,
Their soothing counsels, wise and kind
Make to a gentle calm subside.
That eye upon the ground is cast,
Which glanced with restless angry glare,
That breast to hostile breast is prest,
Which thought to place a scorpion there.
Contentious tribes upon the ground
Cast bow and spear at their charmed voice,
And, linked in many a friendly round,
Will o'er the pledge of peace rejoice.
Then flourish fields and gardens gay,
Where leaders charged with martial train;
And Infants 'mid the herbage play,
Where lately lay the ghastly slain.
Blest are the peace-makers! for they
To God's blest family belong;
Honoured in this our earthly lay,
And in a sweeter, loftier song.