Why should such gloomy
silence reign,
And why is all the house
so drear,
When neither danger, sickness,
pain,
Nor death, nor want, have
entered here?
We are as many as we were
That other night, when all
were gay
And full of hope, and free
from care;
Yet is there something gone
away.
The moon without, as pure
and calm,
Is shining as that night
she shone;
But now, to us, she brings
no balm,
For something from our hearts
is gone.
Something whose absence leaves
a void--
A cheerless want in every
heart;
Each feels the bliss of
all destroyed,
And mourns the change--but
each apart.
The fire is burning in the
grate
As redly as it used to burn;
But still the hearth is
desolate,
Till mirth, and love, and
PEACE return.
'Twas PEACE that flowed from
heart to heart,
With looks and smiles that
spoke of heaven,
And gave us language to
impart
The blissful thoughts itself
had given.
Domestic peace! best joy
of earth,
When shall we all thy value
learn?
White angel, to our sorrowing
hearth,
Return--oh, graciously return!
