Sabbath Evening.

—George Denison Prentice.

HOW calmly sinks the parting sun!

Yet twilight lingers still;

And beautiful as dream of heaven

It slumbers on the hill;

Earth sleeps, with all her glorious things,

Beneath the Holy Spirit’s wings,

And, rendering back the hues above,

Seems resting in a trance of love.


Round yonder rocks the forest trees

In shadowy groups recline,

Like saints at evening bow’d in prayer

Around their holy shrine;

And through their leaves the night-winds blow,

So calm and still, their music low

Seems the mysterious voice of prayer,

Soft echo’d on the evening air.


And yonder western throng of clouds,

Retiring from the sky,

So calmly move, so softly glow,

They seem to Fancy’s eye

Bright creatures of a better sphere,

Come down at noon to worship here,

And, from their sacrifice of love,

Returning to their home above.


The blue isles of the golden sea,

The night-arch floating high,

The flowers that gaze upon the heavens,

The bright streams leaping by,

Are living with religion—deep

On earth and sea its glories sleep,

And mingle with the starlight rays,

Like the soft light of parted days.


The spirit of the holy eve

Comes through the silent air

To Feeling’s hidden spring, and wakes

A gush of music there!

And the far depths of ether beam

So passing fair, we almost dream

That we can rise and wander through

Their open paths of trackless blue.


Each soul is fill’d with glorious dreams,

Each pulse is beating wild;

And thought is soaring to the shrine

Of glory undefiled!

And holy aspirations start,

Like blessed angels, from the heart,

And bind—for earth’s dark ties are riven—

Our spirits to the gates of heaven.


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