At last I knew the uttermost,
The loneliness of hope.
And just upon the border land,
Where flesh and spirit part,
I knew the secret foot-fall was
The beating of my heart.
NIGHT
The night is old, and all the world
Is wearied out with strife;
At last I knew the uttermost,
The loneliness of hope.
And just upon the border land,
Where flesh and spirit part,
I knew the secret foot-fall was
The beating of my heart.
NIGHT
The night is old, and all the world
Is wearied out with strife;