
a 
Subdath Ehoning. 
George D. Prentice. 
a holy time. The evening shade 
Steals with a soft control 
O’er nature, as a thought of heaven 
Steals o’er the human soul. 
And every ray from yonder blue, 
And every drop of falling dew, 
Seem to bring down to human woes 
From Heaven a message of repose. 
O’er yon tall rock, the shady trees 
A solemn group incline, 
Like gentle nuns in sorrow bowed 
Around their holy shrine ; 
And o’er them now the night-winds blow 
So calm and still, the music low, 
Seems the mysterious voice of prayer 
Soft echoed on the evening air. 









