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Grand Dieu, que nos mains homicides

Ne se rougissent plus de sang!

L'homme en tout lieu est ton enfant : Epargne nous des fratricides !

Plus d'armes, citoyens, fc. Serrez vos rangs, nobles cohortes,

Travailleurs de champs, des cités ; Avec transport ouvrez vos portes

Aux tresors, fruits de libertés. (bis) Que le fer déchire la terre!

Pour le bonheur, pour le progrès,

Le simple artisan de la Paix
Vaut mieux que le foudre de guerre.

Plus d'armes, citoyens, etc.
Sur des ailes de feu lancée,

Poètes, écrivains, savants, Aux monde envoyez la pensée !

Du monde soyez conquérants! (bis) Partagez ce saint heritage,

Prouvez ainsi votre valeur !

Le vaincu bénit le vainqueur.
Ces sont les combats de notre age!

Plus d'armes, citoyens, etc.
Amour sacré de la patrie,

Embrase nous de tes ardeurs ! Liberté, liberté cherie,

Soutiens tes vrais adorateurs! (bis) A la fraternité fidèle,

Au bruit de tes concerts divins,

France établis chez les humains
La République Universelle.

Plus d'armes, citoyens, etc.
Rompez vos bataillons !

Chantez,

Chantons,
Et que la Paix féconde nos sillons !

THUS ENGLISHED.

Come, children of our fatherland,
The day of glory now draws nigh.

For Peace, belov'd on every hand,
Raises her glorious standard high,

Raises her glorious standard high.
Let every frontier hear our voice,

Open your arms, ye people all,

And to our brave battalions call,
Unite as brethren, and rejoice!

No more 'to arms !' be heard the cry,
Disband your useless soldiery ;

From each,

From all, Let the glad song arise, May welcome Peace our furrows fertilize.''

Why these accoutrements of War ?

Why should our loud artillery roar ? And the fierce death-song hurl afar

Defiance to some hostile shore?

Defiance to some hostile shore.
Let ours the greater glory be,
While the wide world our name recites,

To shew humanity has rights
More sacred far than victory!

No more, &c.

What! shall war's many-featured wo,

Tears, mourning, death, and all their train, The joyous earth again o’erflow,

Nor we our long-sought haven gain?

Nor we our long-sought haven gain.
Let not our hands in blood be dyed,
We are thy children, Lord ! do Thou,

Since all thy fatherhood avow,
Withhold us from such fratricide !

No more, &c.

Close, close your ranks, ye noble bands,

From city and from country--ye Who seek by labor of your hands,

The glorious fruits of liberty

The glorious fruits of liberty. What though the sword this earth should mar,

Goodwill and progress wait on you

The blessings that from peace accrue, Out-rival all the wealth of war!

No more, fc.

Swift as the lightning's bolts descend,

Ye truly wise, ye truly great Philosophers and poets, send

Your thoughts the world to subjugate,

-Your thoughts the world to subjugate, This—this shall be your heritage,

-An earnest this of your success,

The vanquished shall the victor bless, And peaceful conquests grace our age !

No more, &c.

Let love of country fire our frame,

And wake our generous ardours now, For Freedom that deserves the name,

While we in deep devotion bow At Friendship's shrine—the great—the good!

Thus shall France teach the world to raise

The chorus of unmingled praise
And universal Brotherhood.

No more ' to arms !' be heard the cry,
Disband your useless soldiery;

From each,

From all, Let one glad song arise, May lasting Peace our furrows fertilize!

THE FIELD IS THE WORLD.

(MARK xvi. 15.)

Go where the Master bids thee,

And think on Him who trod The path of scorn and sorrow,

To bring thee nigh to God. Go where the Master bids thee,

To Israel's scattered race Proclaim the King Messiah,

Proclaim redeeming grace. Go where the Master bids thee,

Go call His wanderers home From realms of papal blindness,

From the dread thrall of Rome.

Go where the Master bids thee,

To erring Moslem lands;
And plant the cross triumphant

Where now the crescent stands.
Go where the Master bids thee,

To tribes of tongue unknown, Whose children sit in darkness,

And bow to wood and stone. Go where the Master bids thee,

To pain or toil or scorn,
While in His strength confiding

Say, art thou left forlorn ?
Go where the Master bids thee,

And through the Spirit's might
Shall sin's benighted captives,

Wake to celestial light.
Go where the Master bids thee,

Rejoicing in His love,
Look for a brighter morrow,

A home, a rest, above.

C. B. C. MAN GIVETH UP THE GHOST; AND WHERE IS HE ?

O Time! on rapid pinions

For ever onward bound,
Say where are they– the mighty,

Who once on earth were found ?
Though thine all-crumbling fingers

Have spared to slow decay
Some works of former ages,

The workers—where are they?
The mountains stand majestic,

The ancient hills abide,
But man is born and dieth,

And quits his pomp and pride.
Still smiles the gentle valley,

Still frowns the barren rock,
E’en the soft sand remaineth

Our life's brief dreams to mock.
Still flow the silent rivers,

Still booms the unfathomed sea,
Earth holds her course primeval,

But man, where is he ?
The orbs of light resplendent,

Their motions unforgot,
Shine as they shone on Eden,

But man abideth not.
Gone are the high, the lowly,

The ruler and the slave,
The abject, and the mighty,

Gone to the silent grave.
Yet soon the day is coming

When rock and hill shall flee,
When Time shall be no longer,

And “there be no more sea.”
Not then shall Ocean cavern

Be one lone sleeper's bed,
For hark! the angelic summons !

“O Earth! restore thy dead!”

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