Classic Poem

Daily the hum of eve returns;
The twilight onward speeds, —
As night to day, and day to night,
In changeless round succeeds.

But busier is the evening hum
That swells upon the air;
And quicker footsteps seem to tell
Of more than common care.

It is the night-fall of the week;
It brings the joyful close
To earthly scenes awhile, and bids
The spirit take repose.

No work shall break the Sabbath rest;
No care with harsh control
Shall bind, in mortal grasp, the strength
Of the immortal soul.

The day shall be a day of love,
With holy converse blest,
And urge the lingering spirit on,
To seek the heavenly rest.

Then let the evening hum be loud;
'T is but the note that tells
Of preparation for the peace
That in the Sabbath dwells!