And we can almost think we gaze,
Through opening vistas into heaven,--
Those hues that mark the sun's decline,
So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine.
3When night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes,--
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.