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.