Classic Poem

Thou call'st me, little child,
With thy voice sweet and mild,
To go with thee;
I take thy guiding hand,
For thou the happy land
Dost clearly see.

The land, where heard no more
The lion's angry roar;
Nor beast of prey
Doth ravage and devour;
And gone the tyrant's power,
To hurt, and slay.

The fields and pastures green
Through all the year are seen,
No drought they know;
There flowers of beauty rare,
Without man's fostering care,
Abundant grow.

There in a peaceful life,
Forgotten war's rude strife,
All men shall live;
No enemy shall spoil,
Earth without painful toil,
Shall plenty give.

There nevermore is heard
Harsh speech, nor angry word;
No more we hear
Of deeds of shame and crime,
Darkening the page of time;
Nor dwell in fear.

No sorrow there shall be,
New heavens and earth we'll see,
Where dwelleth Love;
There, there, O gentle guide,
May I with thee abide,
Blest land above.