JEPHTHAH. 35
The long hours with Jehovah, at His throne,
And wrestle with th’ accuser. So, depart!
CHORUS OF ELDERS.
When the countenance fair of the morning
And the lusty bright limbs of the day
Race far through the west for a warning
Of night that is evil and gray,
When the light by the southward is dwindled,
And the clouds as for sleep are unfurled,
The moon in the east is rekindled,
The hope of the passionate world.
The stars for a token of glory
Flash fire in the eyes of the night,
And the holy immaculate story
Of Heaven is flushed into light.
For the night has a whisper to wake us,
And the sunset a blossom to kiss,
And the silences secretly take us
To the well of the water that is ;
For the darkness is pregnant with being,
As earth that is glad of the rain,
And the eyes that are silent and seeing -
Are free of the trammels of pain.
Like light through the portals they bounded,
Their lithe limbs with cruelty curled,
And the noise of their crying resounded
To kindle the death of the world.
For the heaven at sunset is sundered,
Its gates to the sages unclose,