TWILIGHT THOUGHTS by Ella Wheeler

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 2, 1879

TWILIGHT THOUGHTS.

By Ella Wheeler

The god of the day has vanished, The light from the hills has fled, And the hand of an unseen artist Is painting the west all red. All threaded with gold and crimson, And burnished with amber dye, And tipped with purple shadows, The glory flameth high.

Fair, beautiful world of ours! Fair, beautiful world, but oh, How darkened by pain and sorrow, How blackened by sin and woe! The splendor pales in the heavens And dies in a golden gleam, And alone in hush of twilight, I sit, in a checkered dream.

I think of the souls that are straying In shadows as black as night, Of hands that are groping blindly In search of the shining light; Of hearts that are mutely crying, And praying for just one ray, To lead them out of the shadows, Into the better way.

And I think of the Father's children Who are trying to walk alone, Who have dropped the hand of the Parent, And wander in ways unknown. Oh, the paths are rough and thorny, And I know they cannot stand; They will faint and fall by the wayside, Unguarded by God's right hand.

And I think of the souls that are yearning To follow the good and true; That are striving to live unsullied, Yet know not what to do. And I wonder when God, the Master, Shall end this weary strife, And lead us out of the shadows Into the deathless life.

—Ella Wheeler.