Twilight is gone, and Evening now
Her sable mantle throws around;
The cool wind fans the weary brow,
And stillness holds its sway profound. How calmly falls the sober ray
That shines from yon ethereal dome,
That points to heaven the spirit's way
Through distant spheres, to God, its home. Evening, thine is the lonely hour,
When mind immortal mind may meet;
And prayer, like incense, angels bear
Up to the holy Mercy-seat. There comes a voice from Olive's height--
The gentle Saviour's lonely prayer;
'Tis borne, amidst the hush of night,
From Judah's groves of balmy air. "O Father! Let it pass!" He said;
"How can I drink the bitter cup?
Still be Thy will in me obeyed;
My will, my life, I yield them up." Forever shall that mystic scene
Float on the lonely wings of night,
And on our Father teach to lean
For help to make our sorrows light. Evening! Thine is the season blest
To woo the soul from cares and woes--
When angels gently watch our rest,
While pillowed in the night's repose. How oft thy shadows fondly bring
The memories of departed days;
How calmly buoy the spirit's wing,
As back we turn life's bygone ways. Serene earth's glorious landscape lies,
Beneath the beams of Cynthia's light;
The twinkling orbs bestud the skies,
And flood the earth with mellow light. How grateful is this stilly hour!
Rude sounds no more the ear enthrall;
And kindly o'er the drooping flower
The tear of night doth silent fall. Evening, blest season! Man is free
From busy care, from toil and woe;
And lo! He bends in prayer the knee,
And sweet to God his accents flow.