O'er Kedron's stream, and Salem's height, <br />And Olivet's brown steep, <br />Rolls the majestic queen of night, <br />And showers from heaven her silver light, <br />And sees the world asleep. <br /> <br /> <br />All but the children of distress, <br />Of sorrow, grief, and care; <br />Whom sleep, though prayed for, will not bless; <br />These leave the couch of restlessness, <br />To breathe the cool, calm air. <br /> <br /> <br />For those who shun the glare of day, <br />There 's a composing power, <br />That meets them on their lonely way, <br />In the still air,-the sober ray <br />Of this religious hour. <br /> <br /> <br />'T is a religious hour; for he, <br />Who many a grief shall bear, <br />In his own body on the tree, <br />Is kneeling in Gethsemanè, <br />In agony and prayer. <br /> <br /> <br />O, holy Father! when the light <br />Of earthly joy grows dim, <br />May hope in Christ grow strong and bright, <br />In all who celebrate this rite <br />In memory of him.<br /><br />John Pierpont<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hymns-for-communion-iv/
