Volume 3 — PROMISE.

O watcher for the dawn of day, As o'er the mountain peaks afar Hangs in the twilight cold and gray, Like a bright lamp, the morning star! Though slow the daybeams creep along The serried pines which top the hills, And gloomy shadows brood among The silent valleys, and the rills Seem almost hushed—patience awhile! Though slowly night to day gives birth, Soon the young babe with radiant smile Shall gladden all the waiting earth. By fair gradation changes come, No harsh transitions mar God's plan, But slowly works from sun to sun His perfect rule of love to man. And patience, too, my countrymen, In this our nation's fierce ordeal! Bright burns the searching flame, and then, The dross consumed, shall shine the real. Wake, watcher! see the mountain peaks Already catch a golden ray, Light on the far horizon speaks The dawning of a glorious day. Murky the shadows still that cling In the deep valleys, but the mist Is soaring up on silver wing To where the sun the clouds has kissed. Hard-fought and long the strife may be, The powers of wrong be slow to yield, But Right shall gain the victory, And Freedom hold the battle field.