Classic Poem

On the dark hill's western side
The last purple gleam has died;
Twilight to one solemn hue
Changes all, both green and blue.

In the fold and in the nest,
Birds and lambs are gone to rest,
Labour's weary task is o'er,
Closely shut the cottage door.

Saviour, ere in sweet repose
I my weary eyelids close,
While my mother through the gloom
Singeth from the outer room;

While across the curtain white,
With a dim uncertain light,
On the floor the faint stars shine,
Let my latest thought be Thine.

'Twas a starry night of old,
When rejoicing Angels told
The poor shepherds of Thy birth,
God become a Child on earth.

Soft and quiet is the bed,
Where I lay my little head;
Thou hadst but a manger bare,
Rugged straw for pillow fair.

Saviour, 'twas to win me grace,
Thou didst stoop to that poor place,
Loving with a perfect love
Child, and man, and God above.

Hear me as alone I lie,
Plead for me with God on high;
All that stain'd my soul to-day,
Wash it in Thy Blood away.

If my slumbers broken be,
Waking let me think of Thee:
Darkness cannot make me fear,
If I feel that Thou art near.

Happy now I turn to sleep;
Thou wilt watch around me keep.
Him no danger e'er can harm,
Who lies cradled on Thine Arm.