When Mercy points where Jesus bleeds, And Faith beholds thine anger cease; And Hope to black despair succeeds;-- This, Father! this alone is _Peace_! _Gisborne._ Wherefore from His throne exalted, Came He on this earth to dwell; All His pomp an humble manger-- All His court a narrow cell? “From that world to bring to this, _Peace_, which of all earthly blisses Is the brightest, purest bliss.” _Violante Di Ceo._ Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease! And like a bell with solemn sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say “_Peace_!” _Peace_! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of war’s great organ shakes the skies; But, beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holiest melodies of love arise. _Longfellow._ “_Peace_,” shall the world outwearied ever see Its universal reign? Will states, will kings, Put down these murderous and unholy things, Which fill the earth with blood and misery? Will nations learn that love--not enmity-- Is heaven’s first lesson--which beneath the wings Of mercy, brooding over land and sea, Fills earth with joy by its soft ministerings? ’Twere a sad prospect--’twere a vista dark As midnight--could this wearied mortal eye, Through the dim mists that veil futurity, Discern not that heaven-bright though distant spark, Lighted by prophecy, whose ray sublime Sheds a soft gleam of hope o’er the dull path of time. I hate that noisy drum, it is a sound That tells of war, of bondage, and I blush That liberty had ever cause to rush Into a warrior’s arms; that right e’er found Asylum in the furious field. Not so The holy crowns of genuine glory grow; Not there should they who bear the badge serene Of Him who was the Prince of _Peace_, be seen; Can such His faithful followers be?--Oh no! His laurels are not drenched in blood,--but green And beautiful as spring:--His arms are love And mercy and forgiveness; and with them He rules the nations’ mighty destinies And gently leads us to our homes above. _Dr. Bowring._ If there be sore strife and care, In the world below, Restless spirits never there Could chase away their woe, Let the storm that raves about us, By our faith be kept without us; Let us from our troubles cease, Power and conquest dwell in _peace_. _J. Gostick._ PERFECTION. Out of Zion, the _perfection_ of beauty, God hath shined.--Psalm l. 2. O when wilt thou come unto me? I will walk within my house with a _perfect_ heart.--Psalm ci. 2.