LIGHT AT EVENTIDE.


 


 


THE day has been dark and doleful—


A day of wind and rain,


With the sound of ghostly fingers


Upon the window-pane,


And never a gleam of sunshine;


The cold gray sky has closed


In this day for sad remembrance


For what our lives have lost.


Weary with vain regretting


For things that could not be,


Weary with counting over


The graves in memory


I opened the Book of comfort


And in its pages read


What one of the grand old prophets,


In time of trouble said.


I heard like a voice from heaven


The royal singer's song


Of faith in Eternal Goodness


To triumph over wrong;


The day may be wild with tempest,


But in patient trust abide,


And remember the sweet old promise


Of light at the eventide.


And lo! as I read the chapter


So dear to the weary heart,


I saw the clouds at sunset,


Like curtains swing apart.


And it seemed like a glimpse of heaven,


That touched my eyes like balm,


As I sat in the sunset glory,


Repeating the sweet old psalm.


 


 


Christian Union