John Greenleaf Whittier

And close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.

And close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October's wood.

Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease;
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Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease;
Sing the song of great joy that the angels began,
Sing the glory to God and of good-will to man!

So let it be in God's own might
We gird us for the coming fight,
And, strong read more

So let it be in God's own might
We gird us for the coming fight,
And, strong in Him whose cause is ours
In conflict with unholy powers,
We grasp the weapons he has given,--
The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.

With silence only as their benediction,
God's angels come
Where in the shadow of a great affliction,
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With silence only as their benediction,
God's angels come
Where in the shadow of a great affliction,
The soul sits dumb!

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden read more

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden hours,
The early and the latter rain!