When day's toil at last is done, And deep'ning shadows veil the sun, Whose warm rays fade beyond the hill; When white gull's wings at last are still, And peace is on the far blue deep; The bird, the bee, the flower asleep— The new moon's silver horn swings low, And ev'ning star shines out aglow. Dwell thou in secret place most High, With Him who watches ever nigh.
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