Which fell in solemn cadence on the ear

Of the hushed listeners on Mt. Olive's hill:

"At eventide, at midnight, or at morn,

The Son of Man shall come, shall surely come;

Be ready, for ye may not know the hour."

And if at eventide, when Nature folds

Her toil-spent hands and sinks into repose;

Or if at midnight hour of gloom Thou come,

Or when the morning spreads her wings of light,

Oh make us ready for the solemn call.

Supply our need, of knowledge, wisdom, grace,

Dear Lord, that with confiding joy our souls,

Made pure of sin and strong in faith, may go

To meet Thee at Thy coming. If the sound

Of sweet home-voices follow to the brink

[Pg 40]

Of death's dark river, as they fainter grow,

Then let us hear Thy still small voice of love;

Say to us, "It is I—be not afraid."

Or if the angel of the icy hand

 Prev. P 42/93 next