Evensong
The sun has set; grey shadows darken slowly
The rose-red cloud-hills that were bathed in light
O Lord, to Thee, with spirit meek and lowly,
I kneel in prayer to-night.
I thank Thee for my "daily bread"—the sorrow
And the gladness Thou hast given me this day—
The strange rich gifts which, through a long to-morrow,
Deep in my soul will stay.
I thank Thee for the grace that aye restrainèd
My passionate will when it was bent for wrong—
That fed the soul-lamp when the light had wanèd,
And made the weak hands strong.
I thank Thee that the gentle voice of pleading
Made itself heard amid the whirl and strife—
E'en when I walk'd my wilful way unheeding,
Telling of light and life.
That in the sad hour of my soul's affliction,
When I look'd backward as from parchèd lands,
The "gracious rain" of heavenly benediction
Fell still from outstretch'd hands.
Ay, ay, no earnest hope, no true endeavour,
Has been unanswer'd or unbless'd by Thee:
Thou, Lord, who carest for Thine own for ever,
Hast cared indeed for me.
I think of all the blessing and the sweetness
That made the burden of this day so light,
How my home-ties are still in their completeness
Wound round my heart to-night;
How Thou hast had my treasure in Thy keeping,
And yet hast spared them to be mine—still mine;
How o'er the beds where my loved ones are sleeping
Thy folded wings will shine.
And, O my God! I cannot thank Thee duly—
No word or deed which Jesus' love will take
Can span the measure of one blessing truly.
Forgive—for Jesus' sake!
