  To me comes a voice that none other Hath power to hear or to know, Its cadence so sweet and consoling Is a whisper so gentle and low, That the flight of an angel might covet The silence it bears in its tone; It speaks to me often, to comfort My heart when I sit all alone. I oft close my eyes at the twilight And that voice comes floating to me Like the song of some fairy creature That dwells in a pearl-lighted sea; When the shades of midnight infold me That voice lulls me gently to rest, And tells me the time is not distant When my spirit shall dwell as its guest. When shadows of night are departing And smiling Aurora appears, That voice of sweet invitation Falls soothingly into my ears; A form that I fondly cherish Like a vision of beauty I see, That comes on an angelic mission With counsel and solace for me. How sweet is the voice that is calling— Is calling in rapture to me And leading me close to the border Where into its home I can see! It tells me the land is not distant, That soon when my boat I must launch, I shall know the voice that is calling, Is the voice my lost darling Blanche. When Liberty lies wounded, And shrieks in wild despair, Then patriots will cast aside The party garb they wear, And honest hands and hearts unite, To wash away the stain That narrow-minded partisans Would selfishly maintain. Dear Goddess of our fathers! Our hands shall e'er maintain The sacred trust of keeping free The realm where thou dost reign; And counting not our lives too dear To offer unto thee, We dedicate all that we are To our sweet Liberty. |
|
