IN HEAVEN TO-NIGHT.
The earth to-night is bright with flowers,
Unnumbered stars are in the sky;
Oh, lovely are these midnight hours,
When heaven so lovely looks on high;
When every little star that glows,
We deem a spirit's blest abode;
And hear from every flower that blows,
A voice that calls us nearer God;
When, floating on the balmy air,
Come unseen ministers of light;—
I wonder why they hover there,
And what they do in heaven to-night!
Unnumbered stars are in the sky;
Oh, lovely are these midnight hours,
When heaven so lovely looks on high;
When every little star that glows,
We deem a spirit's blest abode;
And hear from every flower that blows,
A voice that calls us nearer God;
When, floating on the balmy air,
Come unseen ministers of light;—
I wonder why they hover there,
And what they do in heaven to-night!
Come those pure spirits from above,
To nerve our almost fainting hearts?
Whispering divinest words of love,
That strengthen as each hope departs?
Come they to warn us of the ills
We, weaklings, cannot comprehend;
The fate that hovers near, and thrills
Our being even to its end?
To nerve our almost fainting hearts?
Whispering divinest words of love,
That strengthen as each hope departs?
Come they to warn us of the ills
We, weaklings, cannot comprehend;
The fate that hovers near, and thrills
Our being even to its end?
