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John Keble (Джон Кибл)


Evening



 Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent. — St. Luke xxiv. 29.

’Tis gone, that bright and orbèd blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
You mantling cloud has hid from sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.

In darkness and in weariness
The traveller on his way must press,
No gleam to watch on tree or tower,
Whiling away the lonesome hour.

Sun of my soul!  Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near:
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes!

When round Thy wondrous works below
My searching rapturous glance I throw,
Tracing out Wisdom, Power and Love,
In earth or sky, in stream or grove;—

Or by the light Thy words disclose
Watch Time’s full river as it flows,
Scanning Thy gracious Providence,
Where not too deep for mortal sense:—

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,
And all the flowers of life unfold;
Let not my heart within me burn,
Except in all I Thee discern.

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
For ever on my Saviour’s breast.

Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live:
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.

Thou Framer of the light and dark,
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark:
Amid the howling wintry sea
We are in port if we have Thee.

The Rulers of this Christian land,
’Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand,—
Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright,
Let all do all as in Thy sight.

Oh! by Thine own sad burthen, borne
So meekly up the hill of scorn,
Teach Thou Thy Priests their daily cross
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss!

If some poor wandering child of Thine
Have spurned to-day the voice divine,
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
Let him no more lie down in sin.

Watch by the sick: enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store:
Be every mourner’s sleep to-night,
Like infants’ slumbers, pure and light.

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take;
Till in the ocean of Thy love
We lose ourselves, in Heaven above.



John Keble's other poems:
  1. First Sunday after Christmas
  2. First Sunday after Epiphany
  3. Second Sunday after Christmas
  4. Second Sunday in Advent
  5. St. John’s Day


Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Percy Shelley (Перси Шелли) Evening ("The sun is set; the swallows are asleep")
  • John Clare (Джон Клэр) Evening ("Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track")
  • Charlotte Smith (Шарлотта Смит) Evening ("OH! soothing hour, when glowing day")
  • Charles Mackay (Чарльз Маккей) Evening ("Tis sweet at morn among the corn")
  • Joanna Baillie (Джоанна Бейли) Evening ("HOW lovely, Evening, is thy parting smile!")
  • Robert Anderson (Роберт Андерсон) Evening ("How sweet 'tis to rove at the close of the day")
  • Thomas Aird (Томас Эрд) Evening ("Those shouts proclaim the village school is out")
  • Oliver Holmes (Оливер Холмс) Evening ("DAY hath put on his jacket, and around")
  • Marjorie Pickthall (Марджори Пиктхолл) Evening ("WHEN the white iris folds the drowsing bee")
  • Menella Smedley (Менелла Смедли) Evening ("It is the hour of evening")

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