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,