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HE shadows of the evening hours Fall from the darkening sky; Upon the fragrance of the flowers The dews of evening lie: Before Thy throne, O Lord of Heaven,

We kneel at close of day;
Look on thy children from on high,
And hear us while we pray.

The sorrows of Thy Servants, Lord,

Oh, do not thou despise;
But let the incense of our prayers

Before Thy mercy rise;
The brightness of the coming night

Upon the darkness rolls:
With hopes of future glory chase

The shadows on our souls.

Slowly the rays of daylight fade;

So fade within our heart,
The hopes in earthly love and joy,

That one by one depart:
Slowly the bright stars, one by one,

Within the Heavens shine;—
Give us, Oh Lord, fresh hopes in Heaven,

And trust in things divine.

Let peace, Oh Lord, Thy peace, Oh God,

Upon our souls descend;
From midnight fears and perils, Thou

Our trembling hearts defend;
Give us a respite from our toil,

Calm and subdue our woes; Through the long day we suffer, Lord,

Oh, give us now repose!



N the outer Court I was singing,
Was singing the whole day long;
From the inner chamber were ringing
Echoes repeating my song.

And I sang till it grew immortal;

For that very song of mine, When re-echoed behind the Portal,

Was filled with a life divine.

Was the Chamber a silver round
Of arches, whose magical art Drew in coils of musical sound,
And cast them back on my heart?

Was there hidden within a lyre

Which, as air breathed over its strings, Filled my song with a soul of fire, And sent back my words with wings?

Was some seraph imprisoned there,
Whose Voice made my song complete,

And whose lingering, soft despair,
Made the echo so faint and sweet?

Long I trembled and paused—then parted
The curtains with heavy fringe;

And, half fearing, yet eager-hearted,
Turned the door on its golden hinge.

Now I sing in the court once more,

I sing and I weep all day,
As I kneel by the close-shut door,

For I know what the echoes say.

Yet I sing not the song of old, Ere I knew whence the echo came,

Ere I opened the door of gold;

But the music sounds just the same.

Then take warning, and turn away;

Do not ask of that hidden thing, Do not guess what the echoes say,

Or the meaning of what I sing.

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TRINKET made like a Heart, dear,

Of red gold, bright and fine,
Was given to me for a keepsake,
Given to me for mine.

And another heart, warm and tender,
As true as a heart could be;

And every throb that stirred it
Was always and all for me.

Sailing over the waters, Watching the far blue land,
I dropped my golden heart, dear,
Dropped it out of my hand!

It lies in the cold blue waters,
Fathoms and fathoms deep,

The golden heart which I promised,
Promised to prize and keep.

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