When the hours of day are numbered
And dreams control the night
The soul wakes that has slumbered
To a calming lovely sight
The sanctuary of home invites
While, like phantoms grim and tall
Shadows from the fitful fire-lights
Dance upon the walls
Then with slow and noiseless tread
Comes a messenger divine
Takes the vacant seat beside my bed
Lays her gentle hand in mine
And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes
Like the stars so still and dreamy
Looking downward from the skies
Uttered not, yet comprehended
Is the spirit’s voiceless prayer
Asking merely to be accepted
Breathed from lips as light as air
Unsure of feelings false or blessed
And trembling as with fright
My pounding heart within my breast
Wakes me unto the lonely night
Copyright © 2002 - Marty Vandermolen - All Rights Reserved
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