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PRISONERS' EVENING SERVICE.
PRISONERS' EVENING HYMN.
We see no more, in thy pure skies,
How soft, O God! the sunset dies;
How every colour'd hill and wood
Seems melting in the golden flood:
Yet, by the precious memories won
From bright hours now for ever gone,
Father! o'er all thy works, we know,
Thou still art shedding beauty's glow;
Still touching every cloud and tree
With glory, eloquent of Thee;
Still feeding all thy flowers with light,
Though man hath barr'd it from our sight.
And bless thee still with free and boundless trust!
We read no more, O God! thy ways
On earth, in these wild evil days.
