Nature hath seasons of repose;

Her slumbering clouds and quiet sky;

And many a bright-faced stream that flows

Forever noiselessly.

The stormy winds are hushed to rest,

And hang self-poised upon their wings;

And nursed on mother nature’s breast,

Flowers lie like sleeping things.

The ocean, that in mountains ran,

Spreads boundlessly without a wave;

And is it only said of man,

His peace is in the grave?

Oh! for the coming of the end,

The last long Sabbath-day of time,

When peace from heaven shall descend,

Like light, on every clime.

For men in ships far off at sea

Shall hear the happy nations raise

The song of peace and liberty,

And overflowing praise.

Mankind shall be one brotherhood;

One human soul shall fill the earth,

And God shall say, “The world is good

As when I gave it birth.”