The day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep, My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine. Father! forgive my trespasses, and keep This little life of mine. With loving-kindness curtain Thou my bed, And cool in rest my burning pilgrim-feet; Thy pardon be the pillow for my head; So shall my sleep be sweet. At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and Thee, No fears my soul’s unwavering faith can shake; All ’s well, whichever side the grave for me The morning light may break.
Azaleas—whitest of white! White as the drifted snow Fresh-fallen out of the night, Before the coming glow Tinges the morning light; When the light is like the snow, White, And the silence is like the light: Light, and silence, and snow,— All—white! White! not a hint Of the creamy...
The day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep, My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine. Father! forgive my trespasses, and keep This little life of mine. With loving-kindness curtain Thou my bed, And cool in rest my burning pilgrim-feet; Thy pardon be the pillow for my head; So shall my sleep be...
Speechless sorrow sat with me; I was sighing wearily; Lamp and fire were out; the rain Wildly beat the window-pane. In the dark I heard a knock, And a hand was on the lock; One in waiting spake to me, Saying sweetly, “I am come to sup with thee.” All my room was dark and damp: “Sorrow,” said I...
