Twilight Devotion
Dublin Core
Title
Twilight Devotion
Description
'Tis evening now - the Sun's last smile
Soft on the snowy peaks is flung;
And o'er the shadowy dells, the while,
The veil of gathering night is hung,
Dark, and more deep, the shades come down,
And softer glows the fading light,
'Till the last beam of day is flown,
And stillness rests on cave and height.
Hark! from the loftiest, dizzy steep,
On which the Sun's last ray was cast,
A shepherd's horn, o'er height and deep,
Rings out a pealing, warning blast!
Its echoes rest - a moment more,
The trumpet's deeper notes are poured -
'Mid the wide silence of the Alps,
It utters forth - Praise ye the Lord!
Praise ye the Lord! the cliffs resound -
The listening shepherds catch the notes,
And from above, beneath, around,
The oft-repeated summons floats -
From rock to rock, from vale to vale,
From every humble cot, 'tis heard,
'Till in the farthest distant dale,
The murmur swells - Praise ye the Lord!
'Tis past - the mountain whispers die!
The hills no more their echoes lend;
And all beneath the silent sky,
In humble adoration bend!
Oh, not to earthly pomp, or power,
Or earthly pride, is ever given,
The blessing of that silent hour,
That holy intercourse with heaven!
No stately dome may rear its head,
No Priest may lead devotion there;
Their only temple, God hath made,
Their only incense offered - Prayer!
Beneath, around, majestic sleep
The solemn, everlasting hills,
Above, the stars their vigils keep,
And angel guards their watch fulfil!
But hark! again the trumpet's note
Peals out beneath the starry light,
Bearing the cheerful, warm salute
From heart to heart, the kind - "good night!"
"Good night!" "good night!" awakes again
Each mountain cave and hillock crest;
Then sounding cliff, and echoing glen,
Rock, hill, and valley, sink to rest.
Soft on the snowy peaks is flung;
And o'er the shadowy dells, the while,
The veil of gathering night is hung,
Dark, and more deep, the shades come down,
And softer glows the fading light,
'Till the last beam of day is flown,
And stillness rests on cave and height.
Hark! from the loftiest, dizzy steep,
On which the Sun's last ray was cast,
A shepherd's horn, o'er height and deep,
Rings out a pealing, warning blast!
Its echoes rest - a moment more,
The trumpet's deeper notes are poured -
'Mid the wide silence of the Alps,
It utters forth - Praise ye the Lord!
Praise ye the Lord! the cliffs resound -
The listening shepherds catch the notes,
And from above, beneath, around,
The oft-repeated summons floats -
From rock to rock, from vale to vale,
From every humble cot, 'tis heard,
'Till in the farthest distant dale,
The murmur swells - Praise ye the Lord!
'Tis past - the mountain whispers die!
The hills no more their echoes lend;
And all beneath the silent sky,
In humble adoration bend!
Oh, not to earthly pomp, or power,
Or earthly pride, is ever given,
The blessing of that silent hour,
That holy intercourse with heaven!
No stately dome may rear its head,
No Priest may lead devotion there;
Their only temple, God hath made,
Their only incense offered - Prayer!
Beneath, around, majestic sleep
The solemn, everlasting hills,
Above, the stars their vigils keep,
And angel guards their watch fulfil!
But hark! again the trumpet's note
Peals out beneath the starry light,
Bearing the cheerful, warm salute
From heart to heart, the kind - "good night!"
"Good night!" "good night!" awakes again
Each mountain cave and hillock crest;
Then sounding cliff, and echoing glen,
Rock, hill, and valley, sink to rest.
Creator
Unattributed
Source
3:4, p. 4
Date
1839.02.02
Contributor
From the Northern Watchman: Thoughts suggested on reading a brief historical sketch of twilight devotion, as maintained by peasants inhabiting the mountainous districts of Switzerland.
Collection
Citation
Unattributed, “Twilight Devotion,” Periodical Poets, accessed September 16, 2024, https://periodicalpoets.com/items/show/301.
Comments