THE VESPER HOUR.

Soft and holy Vesper Hour —

Precursor of the night —

How I love thy soothing power,

The hush, the fading light;

Raising those vain thoughts of ours

To higher, holier things —

Mingling gleams from Eden's bowers

With earth's imaginings!

How thrilling in some grand old fane

To hear the Vesper prayer

Rise, with the organ's solemn strain,

On incense-laden air;

While the last dying smiles of day

Athwart the stained glass pour —

Flooding with red and golden ray

The shrine and chancel floor.

Who, at such moment, has not felt

Those yearnings, vague, yet sweet,

For Heaven's joys at last to melt,

Into fruition meet;

And wished, as with rapt soul he viewed

That glorious Home above,

That earth's vain thoughts would ne'er intrude

On visions of God's love?

To this calm hour belongs a sway

The bright day cannot wield —

Sweet as the evening star's first ray,

Transforming wood and field;

Soft'ing gay flowers else too bright

And silvering hill and dell;

And clothing earth in that mild light

The sad heart loves so well.