Should 'waken the senses through all the hours,
To heighten the charms, replete
With all that we looked for, listened and prayed
And trusted for many years;
There should not be a wish unstayed,
A promise broken, nor tears;
Nothing but gladness and hopes fulfilled,
Health—all weariness gone;
And over these joys such a peace instilled,
It would linger 'til following dawn.
And then I would paint the golden strands
That drifts in some lives through—
Faith and Purpose and willing hands,
No matter what burdens bestrew.
The morning star and the shimmering sun,
And the moonlight's softened ray,
Would, when the dawning morn begun,
Be mingled into day.
At the threshold of Finis I would quietly pause,
And carefully dip my brush
Into my paint, to wipe out the cause
Of estrangement; and then through the hush night
Of a silence that falls with the twilight,
A pair of worn hands should enclasp,
And the chasm that yawned thro' the darkened
Be bridged with that earnest grasp.
I would hear the voice, and paint the smile
That rested on each face;
To heighten the charms, replete
With all that we looked for, listened and prayed
And trusted for many years;
There should not be a wish unstayed,
A promise broken, nor tears;
Nothing but gladness and hopes fulfilled,
Health—all weariness gone;
And over these joys such a peace instilled,
It would linger 'til following dawn.
And then I would paint the golden strands
That drifts in some lives through—
Faith and Purpose and willing hands,
No matter what burdens bestrew.
The morning star and the shimmering sun,
And the moonlight's softened ray,
Would, when the dawning morn begun,
Be mingled into day.
At the threshold of Finis I would quietly pause,
And carefully dip my brush
Into my paint, to wipe out the cause
Of estrangement; and then through the hush night
Of a silence that falls with the twilight,
A pair of worn hands should enclasp,
And the chasm that yawned thro' the darkened
Be bridged with that earnest grasp.
I would hear the voice, and paint the smile
That rested on each face;
—26—
