1317
P. M.
Evening prayer.
I come to thee to-night,
In my lone closet, where no eye can see,
And dare to crave an interview with thee,
Father of love and light.
2 Softly the moonbeams shine
On the still branches of the shadowy trees,
While all sweet sounds of evening on the breeze
Steal through the slumbering vine.
3 Thou gavest the calm repose
That rests on all; the air, the birds, the flower,
The human spirit in its weary hour,
Now at the bright day’s close.
4 Father! my soul would be
Pure as the drops of eve’s unsullied dew—
And as the stars whose nightly course is true,
So would I be to thee.
5 Not for myself alone
Would I the blessings of thy love implore;
But for each penitent the wide earth o’er,
Whom thou hast called thine own.
6 And for my heart’s best friends,
Whose steadfast kindness o’er my painful years
Has watched, to soothe affliction’s griefs and tears,
My warmest prayer ascends.
7 And now, O Father, take
The heart I cast with humble faith on thee,
And cleanse its depths from each impurity,
For my Redeemer’s sake.