The Closing Week
How sweet the evening shadows fall,
Advancing from the west,
As ends the weary week of toil,
And comes the day of rest!
Bright o'er the earth the star of eve
Her radiant beauty sheds;
And myriad sisters calmly weave
Their halo round our heads.
Rest, man, from labor; rest from sin!
The world's hard contest close;
The holy hours with God begin;
Yield thee to sweet repose.
Bright o'er the earth the morning ray
Its sacred light will cast,—
Fair emblem of the glorious day
That evermore shall last.
Advancing from the west,
As ends the weary week of toil,
And comes the day of rest!
Bright o'er the earth the star of eve
Her radiant beauty sheds;
And myriad sisters calmly weave
Their halo round our heads.
Rest, man, from labor; rest from sin!
The world's hard contest close;
The holy hours with God begin;
Yield thee to sweet repose.
Bright o'er the earth the morning ray
Its sacred light will cast,—
Fair emblem of the glorious day
That evermore shall last.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.