Hath not thy heart within thee burned
At evening’s calm and holy hour,
As if its inmost depths discerned
The presence of a loftier power?

Hast thou not heard ’mid forest glades,
While ancient rivers murmured by,
A voice from forth the eternal shades,
That spake a present Deity?

And as, upon the sacred page,
Thine eye in rapt attention turned
O’er records of a holier age,
Hath not thy heart within thee burned?

It was the voice of God that spake
In silence to thy silent heart;
And bade each worthier thought awake,
And every dream of earth depart.

Voice of our God, O, yet be near!
In low, sweet accents, whisper peace;
Direct us on our pathway here,
Then bid in heaven our wanderings cease.