AN AUTUMN THOUGHT.
Above the hills the golden leaflets shine,
And crimson sunset clouds are brightly drifting,
Like gorgeous vailings which a Hand divine
Between His world and ours is slowly lifting,
While yellow harvest grain
Is bright'ning all the plain.
And crimson sunset clouds are brightly drifting,
Like gorgeous vailings which a Hand divine
Between His world and ours is slowly lifting,
While yellow harvest grain
Is bright'ning all the plain.
A glory rests upon the silent land,
More beautiful than summer's fairest blooming,
The wondrous cunning of a Master's hand
That hides away decay and death and glooming,
And gives us Autumn's grace
Ere Winter comes apace.
More beautiful than summer's fairest blooming,
The wondrous cunning of a Master's hand
That hides away decay and death and glooming,
And gives us Autumn's grace
Ere Winter comes apace.
The tender dawning of the May-time's bloom,
The fair June days with all their passing sweetness,
The fair June days with all their passing sweetness,
