Classic Poem

The Sabbath-sun was setting slow,
Amidst the clouds of even;
“Our Father,”—breathed a voice below—
“Father, who art in heaven!”

Beyond the earth—beyond the cloud—
Those infant words were given;
“Our Father,”—angels sang aloud—
“Father, who art in Heaven!”

“Thy kingdom come”—still from the ground,
That child-like voice did pray;
“Thy kingdom come”—God's hosts resound—
Far up the starry way!

“Thy will be done,”—with little tongue,
That lisping love implores;
“Thy will be done,”—the angelic throng—
Sing from seraphic shores!

“For ever,”—still those lips repeat,
Their closing evening prayer;
“For ever,”—floats in music sweet—
High 'midst the angels there!

Thine be the glory evermore,
From Thee may man ne'er sever;
But every Christian land adore—
Jehovah!—God!—for ever!