There’s a gathering darkness in the sky,
There’s a tramp of hurrying feet;
There’s a clang of arms, and a battle cry,
And two hostile armies meet.
They meet! they charge! ’tis a dreadful sight!
They wade through a gory sea;
It is life or death, it is wrong or right,
It is freedom or slavery!
The nations stand with a wondering look,
And list to the roar and din;
While History bends o’er an open book
And steadily writes therein.
And what will she say of my native land?
And what of the Parent Isle?
To the North, or South, did they give their hand,
To which did they grant a smile?
God speaks in the wind and earthquake now,
And those who have ears may hear:
To the King of kings let monarchs bow,
And let all the earth draw near.
Let the nations mark his holy laws,
For though he keeps silence long,
With fire and sword He will plead the cause
Of the weak against the strong.
Take heed and beware, my native land,—
To thy ways and words take heed!
On the side of right and freedom stand,
And say to the truth, “God speed!”
Let England herself a lesson learn,
And let her take warning too;
Let her judge as she would be judged in turn,
Let her nobly speak and do.
[Dear as Canada was to our authoress, dearer still
to her heart was the true Father-Land, “the
heavenly country” for which the children of
faith in the olden time looked. Being born again
she bore such a relationship to the world to come
that we may say of her, as she does of “the
bride of Christ”: “The Cross was infinitely
dearer to her than ten thousand worlds. It was
twined around her heart with ties that nothing could
ever loose. She wept, but they were mingled tears
of joy and sorrow: sorrow, for she mourned that
her sins had cost the life of the Son of God; joy,
for she knew that that sacrifice had made a perfect
atonement for her. She knew that the Father had
forgiven her iniquities, and that he would no longer
remember her sins. As she clung to the Cross,
a bright beam of glory shone around her; she raised
her tearful eyes, and a crown of everlasting beauty
met her admiring gaze: she knew that crown was
reserved for her, and that on her bridal day her Lord
would place it on her own brow.” With such
an experience and such a hope, we are not surprised
that she should thus discourse:]
The earth renewed presents a glorious scene:
Mountains and valleys of perpetual green;
Delicious plains, and odoriferous bowers,
Unfading forests, never-dying flowers;
Fruits that on fragrant trees immortal grow,
Rivers that murmur sweetly as they flow,
And gardens decked with everlasting spring,
And shining warblers on the tireless wing.
No howling tempest breaks the sweet repose,
No piercing thorn surrounds the blushing rose,
No sultry heat parches those blooming plains,
No night is known where day forever reigns;
No thunder’s roar, no lightning’s vivid
glare,
No darkened sky, disturbs the beauty there.
