'Twas evening, in the summer time,
The breeze was low and mild,
The sun before he sank to rest
On all glad nature smiled,
While at her little cottage door
Lingered a lovely child.
A feverish flush was on her face,
A glow was in her eyes,
As with a longing gaze she looked
At the softly purpling skies,
Which to her childish fancy seemed
The gates of Paradise.
That fell disease had marked the maid,
That waits not the blooming prey;
But she felt the life return to her
On that glorious summer day;
And she rose and went to the cottage door
To see the children play.
The setting sun in glory streamed
Upon her silvery hair;
It lit her face as if it loved
To dwell on aught so fair,
As in a voice of sweetest tone
She sang a simple air;—
A song to Him whose name is Love,
To Him who reigns on high;
And Jesus' name the burden was
Of that simple melody;
The echoes catch the gentle strain,
As if loath to let it die.
She ceased, and the golden summer sun
Sank in the gorgeous west,
And the lady moon appeared to view,
In her borrowed glory drest,
As the little maiden left the door
And slowly went to rest.
'Twas midnight, and the dreamy stars
Were twinkling overhead,
When weeping friends were gathered round
That suffering maiden's bed,
And like the flash of an angel's wing
Her gentle spirit fled.
Yet, ere she left this earthly scene,
Like the sound of Seraphs' throng,
There came a strain so soft and clear
Which the midnight airs prolong;
And the tune that fell on the listening ear
Was the same as the maiden's song.
A happy smile plays o'er face;
She opes her closing eyes,
As the sun gleams for a moment forth
From the darkly-clouded skies,—
But a shadow chases away the smile,
And the little maiden dies.
But oft when evening settles down
On trees and whispering fanes,
When shadows clothe the mountains brown
And lengthen o'er the plains,
A silvery voice is heard to sing
Those sweet and soothing strains.
Oh, who shall say she does not leave
Her home in happier sphere,
An angel on some mission bent—
To wipe away the tear,—
To guide to realms beyond the stars,—
To praise her Saviour here?
The breeze was low and mild,
The sun before he sank to rest
On all glad nature smiled,
While at her little cottage door
Lingered a lovely child.
A feverish flush was on her face,
A glow was in her eyes,
As with a longing gaze she looked
At the softly purpling skies,
Which to her childish fancy seemed
The gates of Paradise.
That fell disease had marked the maid,
That waits not the blooming prey;
But she felt the life return to her
On that glorious summer day;
And she rose and went to the cottage door
To see the children play.
The setting sun in glory streamed
Upon her silvery hair;
It lit her face as if it loved
To dwell on aught so fair,
As in a voice of sweetest tone
She sang a simple air;—
A song to Him whose name is Love,
To Him who reigns on high;
And Jesus' name the burden was
Of that simple melody;
The echoes catch the gentle strain,
As if loath to let it die.
She ceased, and the golden summer sun
Sank in the gorgeous west,
And the lady moon appeared to view,
In her borrowed glory drest,
As the little maiden left the door
And slowly went to rest.
'Twas midnight, and the dreamy stars
Were twinkling overhead,
When weeping friends were gathered round
That suffering maiden's bed,
And like the flash of an angel's wing
Her gentle spirit fled.
Yet, ere she left this earthly scene,
Like the sound of Seraphs' throng,
There came a strain so soft and clear
Which the midnight airs prolong;
And the tune that fell on the listening ear
Was the same as the maiden's song.
A happy smile plays o'er face;
She opes her closing eyes,
As the sun gleams for a moment forth
From the darkly-clouded skies,—
But a shadow chases away the smile,
And the little maiden dies.
But oft when evening settles down
On trees and whispering fanes,
When shadows clothe the mountains brown
And lengthen o'er the plains,
A silvery voice is heard to sing
Those sweet and soothing strains.
Oh, who shall say she does not leave
Her home in happier sphere,
An angel on some mission bent—
To wipe away the tear,—
To guide to realms beyond the stars,—
To praise her Saviour here?