In the grim silence of the shuddering night,
The latest born of the expiring year
Limps wearily war-wasted out of sight
With garments rolled in blood and vision blear.
The thunder of contending armies rends
Celestial regions; from the firmanent
Destruction, like the hail of God, descends;
The depth of ocean boil belligerent.
We wait not for the coming year to bring
An era of tranquility to men;
Not to the forces of the flesh we cling—
Oft have they failed, and they would fail again.
The glorious advent of the Prince of Peace
Is all our hope, and all our confidence:
He, only He, can bid the battle cease,
And put an end to vice and violence.
He only can bind up the broken heart;
He only can, and will: let none despair!
From death and hades He who bore the smart
Of our transgressions back our dead shall bear.
Let us arise, and from the willows take
Our harps: let us exult with all our powers,
And with our songs the slumbering echoes wake,
For by His favour victory is ours.