AN EVENING MEDITATION.

It is a lovely scene; the sun has set,

But left his glory in the western sky

Where daylight lingers, half regretful yet

That sombre Night, her sister, draweth nigh,

And one pale star just looketh from on high;

‘ Tis neither day nor night, but both have lent

Their own peculiar charms to please the eye,—

Declining day its sultry heat has spent,

And calm, refreshing night its grateful coolness lent.

The lake is sleeping — on its quiet breast

Are clouds of every tint the rainbows wear,

Some are in crimson, some in gold are dressed.

Oh, had I wings, like yonder birds of air,

How I would love to dip my pinions there,

Then mount exulting to the heavenly gate,—

A song of love and gratitude to bear

To Him who gives the lowly and the great,

In earth, and sea, and sky, so glorious an estate.

It is the time when angels are abroad

Upon their work of love and peace to men,—

Commissioned from the dazzling throne of God,

They come to earth as joyfully as when

The tidings ran o'er mountain and o'er glen,

“A son is born, a Saviour and a King,” —

For they have tidings glorious as then,

Since tokens from our risen Lord they bring,

That life has been secured, and death has lost its sting.

The twilight deepens; o'er the distant hill

A veil is spread of soft and misty grey;

And from the lake, so beautiful and still,

The images of sunset fade away;

The twinkling stars come forth in bright array,

Which shunned the splendor of the noontide glare,—

A holy calm succeeds the bustling day.

And gentle voices stealing through the air,

Proclaim to hearts subdued the hour of grateful prayer.