Thou, who hast here, in concord, furled
The war-flags of a gathered world,—
Beneath our Western skies fulfil
The Orient's mission of good will,
And, freighted with Love's Golden Fleece,
Send back the Argonauts of Peace.

For Art and Labor, met in truce,
For Beauty, made the bride of Use,
We thank Thee; while, withal, we crave
The austere virtues, strong to save,—
The Honor, proof to place or gold,
The Manhood, never bought or sold.

Oh, make Thou us, through centuries long,
In Peace secure, in justice strong;
Around our gift of Freedom draw
The safeguards of Thy righteous law;
And, cast in some diviner mould,
Let the new cycle shame the old.

The Centennial Commissioners appointed by the United States, through Senator Joseph Roswell Hawley, of Connecticut, President of the Commission, accepted the completed buildings from John Welsh, of Philadelphia, President of the Board of Finance, and the following cantata, written by the poet Sidney Lanier, of Macon, Georgia, was rendered:

THE MEDITATIONS OF COLUMBIA, 1876."

From this hundred-terraced height,
Sight more large, with nobler light,
Ranges down yon towering years;
Humbler smiles and lordlier tears
Shine and fall, shine and fall,
While old voices rise and call
Yonder, where the to-and-fro
Weltering of my Long-Ago
Moves about the moveless base,
Far below my resting-place.

Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,
Trembling westward o'er yon balking sea,
Hearts within," Farewell, dear England," sighing,
Winds without, "But dear in vain," replying,
Gray-lipped waves, about thee, shouted, crying,
No! It shall not be!

Jamestown, out of thee;

Plymouth, thee; thee, Albany.
Winter cries, "Ye freeze; away!"
Fever cries, "Ye burn; away!"
Hunger cries, "Ye starve; away!"
Vengeance cries, "Your graves shall stay!"

Then old shapes and masks of things,
Framed like Faiths, or clothed like kings;
Ghosts of Goods, once fleshed and fair,
Grown foul Bads in alien air;

War, and his most noisy lords,

Tongued with lithe and poisoned swords,
Error, Terror, Rage, and Crime,

All, in a windy night of time,
Cried to me, from land and sea,—
No! Thou shalt not be!

Hark!

Huguenots whispering "yea," in the dark!
Puritans answering "yea," in the dark!
Yea, like an arrow, shot true to its mark,
Darts through the tyrannous heart of Denial.
Patience and Labor and solemn-souled Trial,
Foiled, still beginning,

Soiled, but not sinning,

Toil through the stertorous death of the Night,
Toil, when wild brother-wars new-dark the Light,
Toil, and forgive, and kiss o'er, and replight.

Now Praise to God's oft-granted grace,
Now Praise to Man's undaunted face,

Despite the land, despite the sea,

I was, I am, and I shall be.

How long, Good Angel, O how long?
Sing me, from heaven, a man's own song!

"Long as thine Art shall love true love,
Long as thy Science truth shall know,
Long as thy Eagle harms no Dove,
Long as thy Law by law shall grow,
Long as thy God is God above,
Thy brother every man below,

So long, dear Land of all my love,

Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow!"

O Music, from this height of time, my Word unfold;
In thy large signals, all men's hearts Man's heart behold;
Mid-heaven, unroll thy chords, as friendly flags unfurled,
And wave the world's best lover's welcome to the world.

Upon the conclusion of the cantata, Ulysses Simpson Grant, the eighteenth President of the United States, with Dom Pedro II., Emperor of Brazil, then the guest of the United States, touched the keys that set in motion responsive machinery under fourteen acres of protecting roof.

INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1876.

Just at meridian, July 4, near Independence Hall, in the presence of one hundred thousand spectators, General Hawley, and, in the absence of the President of the United States, the acting Vice-President, Thomas White Ferry, of Michigan, President of the United States Senate, welcomed the visitors from all lands to a participation in exercises in honor of the Centennial birthday of the Republic. Bishop William Bacon Stevens, of the Protestant Episcopal Church, ecclesiastical successor of the first Chaplain of the Continental Congress, offered prayer; and a Hymn, composed by the poet Oliver Wendell Holmes, was sung:

WELCOME TO THE NATIONS.

Bright on the banners of lily and rose,
Lo, the last sun of our century sets!

Wreathe the bright cannon that scowled on our foes,
All but her friendships the Nation forgets,

All but her friends, and their welcome, forgets.
These are around her: but where are her foes?
Lo, while the sun of her century sets,
Peace, with her garlands of lily and rose!

Welcome! a shout like the war-trumpet's swell
Wakes the wild echoes that slumber around!
Welcome! it quivers from Liberty's bell;

Welcome! the walls of her temple resound!
Hark! the gray walls of her temple resound!
Fade the far voices o'er hill-side and dell;

Welcome! still whisper the echoes around!
Welcome! still trembles on Liberty's bell!

Thrones of the continents! isles of the sea!

Yours are the garlands of peace we entwine;
Welcome once more to the land of the free,
Shadowed alike by the palm and the pine;
Softly they murmur, the palm and the pine,
"Hushed is our strife, in the land of the free;"
Over your children their branches entwine,
Thrones of the continents! isles of the sea!

Richard Henry Lee, grandson of Richard Henry Lee, of Revolutionary history,* read the Declaration of American Independence, from the original manuscript; followed by a "Greeting from Brazil," composed by A. Carlos Gomez, at the Emperor Dom Pedro's request, and by an ode, written by the poet Bayard Taylor.

THIRD CANTO OF BAYARD TAYLOR'S ODE, "LIBERTY'S LATEST DAUGHTER."

Foreseen in the vision of sages,

Foretold when martyrs bled,

She was born of the longing of ages,

By the truth of the noble dead,

And the faith of the living, fed!

No blood in her lightest veins
Frets at remembered chains,

Nor shame of bondage has bowed her head.
In her form and features, still,
The unblenching Puritan will,
Cavalier honor, Huguenot grace,

The Quaker truth and sweetness,

And the strength of the danger-girdled race

Of Holland, blend in a proud completeness.
From the homes of all, where her being began,
She took what she gave to man:
Justice that knew no station,

Belief as soul decreed,
Free air for aspiration,

Free force for independent deed.
She takes, but to give again,

As the sea returns the rivers in rain;
And gathers the chosen of her seed

From the hunted of every crown and creed.
Her Germany dwells by a gentler Rhine;
Her Ireland sees the old sunburst shine;
Her France pursues some dream divine;
Her Norway keeps his mountain-pine;
Her Italy waits by the western brine;
And, broad-based, under all

Is planted England's oaken-hearted mood,
As rich in fortitude

As e'er went world-ward from the island wall.

Fused in her candid light,

To one strong race all races here unite;

Tongues melt in hers; hereditary foemen

Forget their sword and slogan, kith and clan;

'Twas glory, once, to be a Roman;

She makes it glory, now, to be a man.

The following words, written by Dexter Smith, of Massachusetts, were then sung, the music being composed by Sir Julius Benedict, of England: