The Treasury Of Sacred Song

The flash of youthful light is past and gone;

Not as of yore

Earth's joys abound; but I am left alone

Still more and more,

As one by one the little sparks go out

From this world's stubble, that lies round about.

One hope remains, and that, as others fade,

Grows brighter still

As shadows lengthen o'er this earthly glade,

And up the hill

We higher mount towards the final Home,

To which in GOD's good time we hope to come.

And even here, where darkness gathers round,

All is not dark,

There is, 'midst all, one spot of holy ground

Which bears Heaven's mark --

The Place which GOD has chosen for His own,

That He may come and make His Presence known.

To that I cling the more as eventide

Creeps on and on,

Scattering its sable shadows far and wide,

And, one by one,

Bidding the weary lay them down to rest,

In trust and love upon their FATHER's Breast.