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A memorial volume of sacred poetry

by the late Sir John Bowring. To which is prefixed, a memoir of the author, by Lady Bowring

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Evening.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Evening.

Welcome the hour of sweet repose,
The sacred closing hour of day!
In peace my wearied eyes shall close
When I have tuned my vesper lay
In humble gratitude to Him
Who waked the morning's earliest beam.
In such an hour as this, how sweet,
In the calm solitude of even,
To hold with Heaven communion meet,
Meet for a spirit bound to heaven;
And in this wilderness beneath,
Pure zephyrs from above to breathe!

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It may be that the Eternal Mind
Bends sometimes from His throne of bliss;
Where should we, then, His presence find,
But in an hour so blest as this—
An hour of calm tranquillity,
Silent, as if to welcome Thee?
Then turn my wand'ring thoughts within,
To hold communion, Lord! with Thee;
And, purified from taint of sin
And earth's pollutions, let me see
Thine image,—for a moment prove,
If not Thy majesty, Thy love.
That love which over all is shed—
Shed on the worthless as the just;
Lighting the stars above our head,
And waking beauty out of dust;
And rolling, in its glorious way,
Beyond the farthest comet's ray.