St. Lawrence and the Saguenay, The - Part 27

Mild Evening, like a pensive Vestal Nun,
Sits veiled, lamenting for the truant Hours;
The Day has sprung to heaven to seek the Sun,
And left her weeping on her couch of flowers;
Heaven's Angels, bearing moonlight to the bowers
Where True love dwells, and Virtue sits enthroned,
In golden urns collect the pearly showers,
Singing sweet idyls, low and silver-toned,
Till the enameled tears some cherub brow have zoned.

TWILIGHT HYMN.

God of the early Morning light!
Whose Hand the Gates of Dawn unbars;
God of the Evening and the Night!
Who guides the chariots of the stars:
We thank Thee for the air we breathe,
The waves that roll, the winds that rise,
For all Thy wondrous works beneath,
For all the glories of the skies.

We bless Thee for the soothing Calm
That broods below the Evening's wings,
We bless Thee for the Spirit-balm
The gentle-footed Twilight brings.
Promptings of Hope, and Joy, and Love,
Exalt our minds and set them free,
And Prayer-wreaths white as Aaron's Dove
Ascend like incense up to Thee.

Gently the shades of Night come down,
Glooming the Evening's silver gray,
Pale Twilight puts aside her crown,
And follows the dim Ghost of Day.
So at the threshold of life's close,
We tread the verge of heaven's goal,
Peace, like a spirit, brings repose
To the calm Twilight of the Soul.
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