59 Stockwell. 8s & 7s. Evening Meditations.

Silently the shades of evening
Gather round my lowly door;
Silently they bring before me
Faces I shall see no more.

2 O the lost, the unforgotten,
Tho' the world be oft forgot!
O the shrouded and the lonely!
In our hearts they perish not.

3 Living in the silent hours,
Where our spirits only blend --
They, unlinked with earthly trouble;
We, still hoping for its end.

4 How such holy memories cluster,
Like the stars when storms are past;
Pointing up to that far heaven
We may hope to gain at last.

C.C. Cox