THE MYSTERY OF NIGHT. 35 



and summons the night that has been waiting at 

 the eastern gates. No stir, no strife, no noise of 

 great activities, put forth on a vast scale, break the 

 spell of an hour which is the daily witness of a 

 miracle, and waits, hushed and silent, in a world 

 wide worship, while the altar fires blaze on the 

 western hills. 



In that unspeakable splendor, earth and air and 

 sea are for the moment one, and through them all 

 there flashes a divine radiance ; time is not left 

 without the witness of its sanctity as it fades off 

 the dials of earth and slips like a shining rivulet 

 into the shoreless sea of light beyond. The day 

 that was born with seas and suns at its cradle is fol 

 lowed to its grave by the long procession of the stars. 

 And now that it has gone, with its numberless 

 activities, and the heat and stress of their conten 

 tions, how gently and irresistibly Nature summons 

 her children back to herself, and touches the brow, 

 hot with the fever of work, with the hand of peace ! 

 An infinite silence broods over the fields and upon 

 the restless bosom of the sea. Insensibly there 

 steals into thought, spent and weary with many 

 problems, a deep and sweet repose ; the soul does 

 not sleep ; it returns to the ancient mother, and at 

 her breast feels the old hopes revived, the old 

 aspirations quickened, the old faiths relight their 

 dying fires. The fever of agonizing struggle yields 

 to the calm of infinite trust; the clouds fall apart 

 and reveal the vision, that seemed lost, inviolate 



