Classic Poem

“Light! more light! the shadows deepen
—And my life is ebbing low,
Throw the windows widely open:
—Light! more light! before I go.

“Softly let the balmy sunshine
—Play around my dying bed,
E'er the dimly lighted valley
—I with lonely feet must tread.

“Light! more light! for Death is weaving
—Shadows 'round my waning sight,
And I fain would gaze upon him
—Through a stream of earthly light.”

Not for greater gifts of genius;
—Not for thoughts more grandly bright,
All the dying poet whispers
—Is a prayer for light, more light.

Heeds he not the gathered laurels,
—Fading slowly from his sight;
All the poet's aspirations
—Center in that prayer for light.

Gracious Saviour, when life's day-dreams
—Melt and vanish from the sight,
May our dim and longing vision
—Then be blessed with light, more light.