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the still hour.
By the stream's windings let us with Thee talk
Of this strange earth-life Thou so well hast known,
In Thy fresh footprints let us heavenward walk,—
No more to grope alone!
Of this strange earth-life Thou so well hast known,
In Thy fresh footprints let us heavenward walk,—
No more to grope alone!
If in our thoughts, by Thee made calm and clear,
The brightening image of Thy face we see,
What hour of all our lives can be so dear
As this still hour with Thee!
The brightening image of Thy face we see,
What hour of all our lives can be so dear
As this still hour with Thee!
