Of the shadowy distant ages

Of the shadowy distant ages, (This is the song they sing), That scorn historic pages, When the Maple alone was king; When the bears were lords of creation, The beaver’s the only trade, And the greatest Confederation Was that which the wolves had made.

And then, long ages after, How the first of the forest men, With sounds of war and laughter, Invaded the wild beast’s den; They tell of the axe’s ringing, Of the camp-fire’s savage glee, Of the pipe of peace and the singing Under the maple tree.

And how strange birds of ocean Came from the dawn of day, And woke untold commotion, Where’er they winged their way; How pale-faced men and cruel Carried the sword and brand, In search of gold and jewel, Into the red man’s land.

How, with the warriors, others Of gentle manners came, Who called the red men brothers And told them of His Name, Who came from the Great Spirit, To bless mankind and save; And who, for man’s demerit, Suffered the cross and grave.

How still in spite of preaching Of brotherhood and peace, It seemed that war’s stern teaching Should never, never cease; How blood was shed like water, How treaties were despised, How massacre and slaughter Were night and day devised.

How, in the course of seasons, Other strange ocean birds Brought violence and treasons, And smooth, deceitful words; And how the first pale-faces Fought with the last who came, Until a war of races Set all the woods aflame.

How valiant deeds and noble Shone out amid the night, Illuming scenes of trouble, With Heaven’s blessed light; How oft, in human nature, Though wofully defaced, Was seen some god-like feature— A flower in a waste;

Till now, through God’s good guiding, Those who as foemen strove, With heart in heart confiding, As brothers join in love; Till, from lake, sea and ocean, Mountain and woody dell, Is heard, with glad emotion, Division’s passing-bell.