THE MIDNIGHT HOURS
'Tis way past midnight.
And the still. small hours creep on,
The wind blows hoarse and chill
Outside my casement;
Yet. within, the throbbing life goes on,
As ever thus it did and will
Until the last. great call
Shall come, to carry with it
Love and life and song.
And the still. small hours creep on,
The wind blows hoarse and chill
Outside my casement;
Yet. within, the throbbing life goes on,
As ever thus it did and will
Until the last. great call
Shall come, to carry with it
Love and life and song.
'Tis way past midnight
And the new day's coming on,
Carrying its load of joy and sorrow,
Nay. now invisible
In the onward flight of its dark shades,
Kind in bringing nearer Heaven's bright home,
But cruel in bidding pilgrims the weary cross renew
Of days and yesterdays. so fraught with pain,
That morrow's sun the life-blood
Ne'er could melt in human frame.
And the new day's coming on,
Carrying its load of joy and sorrow,
Nay. now invisible
In the onward flight of its dark shades,
Kind in bringing nearer Heaven's bright home,
But cruel in bidding pilgrims the weary cross renew
Of days and yesterdays. so fraught with pain,
That morrow's sun the life-blood
Ne'er could melt in human frame.
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