AT EVENTIDE by Eliza H. Morton

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Oct 16, 1893

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 19, No. 49.

AT EVENTIDE.

By Eliza H. Morton

BY ELIZA H. MORTON.

THE crystal calm of the sleeping lake, The brightening gold of the sky, The dreamy hush of the twilight hour, The evening bird's plaintive cry, Wake broken chords of forgotten song That wander through heart and brain, The song of childhood, the song of love Returning once more again.

O days like dew in the morning sun, O shadowed air of the past, Your visions are like a tangled web, Like wrecks on the seashore cast! We gaze and gazing can never find In dreams that for which we sigh; We upward reach and grasp but the air; The stars are afar on high.

But life is more than a phantom dim; We hope for much and aspire. Our faith takes hold of things unseen, And lifts our feet from the mire. In self we find not a stepping-stone, But chains that bind us each hour. In God is life on a higher plane And strength and fullness of power.