EVENING.
Oh, how I love the evening hour,
Its calm and tranquil sky,
When the parting sun from a sea of gold
Is passing silently;
And the western clouds—bright robes of heaven—
Rest gently on the breast of even!
How calm, how gorgeous, and how pure,
How peaceful and serene!
There is a promise and a hope
Enthroned o'er all the scene;
While, blushing, with resplendent pride,
The bright sun lingers on the tide.
The zephyrs on the waveless sea
Are wrapt in silent sleep,
And there is not a breath to wake
The slumbers of the deep—
Peace sits on her imperial throne,
And sounds of sadness there are none!
Methinks I hear in distance harps
By heavenly seraphs strung,
And in the concave of the sky
The holy vespers sung!
Oh, thou great Source of light and power,
We bless thee for the evening hour!
MARY.
If there 's a word that whispers love
In gentlest tones to hearts of woe,
If there 's a name more prized above,
And loved with deeper love below,
'Tis Mary.
If there 's a healing sound beneath
To soothe the heart in sorrow's hour,
If there 's a name that angels breathe
In silence with a deeper power,
'Tis Mary.