Classic Poem

In the dead hour of night,
When all Nature is dreaming,
The watchman in the watch-tower
Is treading his beat.

The soft mellow breezes go out through the leaves,
The silvery moon peeps down through the trees;
It is the peaceful slumber of silent night,
When the earth is a most beautiful sight.

The countless stars in the heaven of light
Illumine the pilgrim's pathway bright
That speeds to and fro through the silent night,
In quest of a happier, holier plight.

Then he takes up new courage and travels right along,
The journey is long, but his faith is quite strong,
He knows that through hardships and struggle, if right,
He can cheerfully pass, with God, through the night.

It is like a dream of a cold winter night,
When I think of the past;
The storm and cloud have left the skies
And my pathway is clear at last.