Frederick Lawrence Knowles writes this optimistic outlook for the
future:
When memory of battles,
At last is strange and old,
When nations have one banner
And creeds have found one fold,
When the Hand that sprinkles midnight
With its powdered drift of suns
Has hushed this tiny tumult
Of sects and swords and guns;
Then Hate’s last note of discord
In all God’s worlds shall cease,
In the conquest which is service,
In the victory which is peace! (Text.)
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