The sun descending in the west,<br>
The evening star does shine;<br>
The birds are silent in their nest,<br>
And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower, In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night.<br>
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,<br>
Where flocks have took delight.<br>
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves<br>
The feet of angels bright; Unseen they pour blessing,<br>
And joy without ceasing, On each bud and blossom, And each sleeping bosom.<br>
They look in every thoughtless nest,<br>
Where birds are covered warm;<br>
They visit caves of every beast,<br>
To keep them all from harm. If they see any weeping<br>
That should have been sleeping, They pour sleep on their head, And sit down
by their bed.<br>
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,<br>
They pitying stand and weep;<br>
Seeking to drive their thirst away,<br>
And keep them from the sheep. But if they rush dreadful,<br>
The angels, most heedful, Receive each mild spirit, New worlds to inherit.<br>
And there the lion’s ruddy eyes<br>
Shall flow with tears of gold,<br>
And pitying the tender cries,<br>
And walking round the fold, Saying, “Wrath, by His<br>
meekness, And, by His health, sickness Is driven away From our immortal day.<br>
“And now beside thee, bleating lamb,<br>
I can lie down and sleep;<br>
Or think on Him who bore thy name,<br>
Graze after thee and weep. For, washed in life’s river,<br>
My bright mane for ever Shall shine like the gold As I guard o’er the fold.”<br>