Classic Poem

The comings on of Faith,
The goings out of Light;
Are as the brightening of the morn,
And dying of the night.

Man tells not of the hour,
By Him alone 'tis told;
Who day and night with certain bounds,
Marked out for him of old!

The singing of the bird,
And sinking of her strain;
The roar of ocean's storm-lashed waves,
And lull; the date retain.

The fading of the leaf,
And blending of each hue;
The hour still hold in truth,
When change the old and new.

There's nought in nature's hymn,
Of earth, or sea, or sky;
But tells, forever tells, the time,
When birth to death is nigh.