Eventide

LAURA E. SARGENT

The fading glow of roseate light
Still lingers in the distant west;
It touches gently haze–clad hills
And glimmers from their opaled crest.

A brooding hush comes softly down,
And homing birds now seek their nest,
While nature breathes her vesper song—
So full of quiet, peace, and rest.

O Love divine, we lift our prayer
In unison with nature's hymn,
And enter Thy most holy place,
Where glory crowns Thy cherubim;

Then face to face commune with Thee
Of things unseen, though just at hand;
Which here and now to us belong,
As we Thy word do understand.

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