Evening Song of the Weary.
Father of heaven and earth!
I bless thee for the night,
The soft, still night!
The holy pause of care and mirth,
Of sound and light!
Now, far in glade and dell,
Flower-cup, and bud, and bell,
Have shut around the sleeping woodlark’s nest;
The bee’s long murmuring toils are done,
And I, the o’erwearied one,
O’erwearied and o’erwrought,
Bless thee, O God! O Father of the oppress’d!
With my last waking thought,
In the still night!
Yes! e’er I sink to rest,
By the fire’s dying light,
Thou Lord of earth and heaven!
I bless thee, who hast given,
Unto life’s fainting travellers, the night—
The soft, still, holy night.