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C. M.



How long, O Lord, his brother’s blood

Shall man in battle spill?

How long that mandate be withstood,

Which cries, “Thou shalt not kill?”

How long shall glory still be found

In scenes of cruel strife,

Where misery walks, a giant crowned,

Crushing the flowers of life?

O, hush, great God! the sounds of war,

And make Thy children feel

That he, with Thee, is noblest far,

Who toils for human weal;—

And though forgotten, he alone

Can be a Christian true

Who would his foes as brethren own,

And still their good pursue.

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