The God of the day has vanished, <br /> The light from the hills has fled, <br />And the hand of an unseen artist <br /> Is painting the west all red. <br />All threaded with gold and crimson, <br /> And burnished with amber dye, <br />And tipped with purple shadows, <br /> The glory flameth high. <br /> <br />Fair, beautiful world of ours! <br /> Fair, beautiful world, but oh, <br />How darkened by pain and sorrow, <br /> How blackened by sin and woe. <br />The splendour pales in the heavens <br /> And dies in a golden gleam, <br />And alone in the hush of twilight, <br /> I sit, in a chequered dream. <br /> <br />I think of the souls that are straying, <br /> In the shadows as black as the night, <br />Of hands that are groping blindly <br /> In search of a shining light; <br />Of hearts that are mutely crying, <br /> And praying for just one ray, <br />To lead them out of the shadows <br /> Into the better way. <br /> <br />And I think of the Father's children <br /> Who are trying to walk alone, <br />Who have dropped the hand of the Parent, <br /> And wander in ways unknown. <br />Oh, the paths are rough and thorny, <br /> And I know they cannot stand. <br />They will faint and fall by the wayside, <br /> Unguarded by God's right hand. <br /> <br />And I think of the souls that are yearning <br /> To folow the good and true; <br />They are striving to live unsullied, <br /> Yet I know not what to do. <br />And I wonder when God, the Master, <br /> Shall end this weary strife, <br />And lead us out of the shadows <br /> Into the deathless life.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twilight-thoughts-2/
