NIGHT
The sun descending in the west,
The evening star does
shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for
mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven's high bower,
With silent
delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and
happy grove,
Where flocks have ta'en delight.
Where lambs have nibbled,
silent move
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And
joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping
bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered
warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If
they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on
their head,
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking
to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But, if they
rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New
worlds to inherit.
And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with
tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the
fold:
Saying: "Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Are
driven away
From our immortal day.
"And now beside thee, bleating
lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy
name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, washed in life's river,
My
bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o'er the fold."
