It is a quiet evening,
’neath clouds and silent stars;
Mist-like is heaven’s wreathing,
Like scattered prison bars.
Oh, see the moon, ’tis rising!
See, gloweth bright its gleam –
The stars around surprising,
Behind its radiant beam.
Unlit was naught; all Heaven
Together breathed a song;
No star held back: God’s hand
Established them along.
I wondered, as I lay there, grieving
I thought, “Is He who fashioned Heaven
My Help? Doeth He
E’en Care for Me?”
I turned to prayer; my soul was seething.
Vagrant, I lie here, wondering
Ran I from chains behind me,
Ahead lie hills, unknown.
Lift up my head, O Sovereign,
O Lord Who know’st my need.
N’er cease to guide my journeying,
E’en to death, if Thou shouldst lead.