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Evening Songs
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My sweetheart, come, kneel down with me,
Now is the time for us to pray—
The moon has risen o'er the woods,
And my time has just passed away.
But, darling, do not clasp Thy hands;
Embrace me as I Thee with mine—
And thus, instead of clasping hands,
Two hearts will in one prayer join.
Thy lips then press Thou close to mine;
From one mouth let the prayer rise—
Let me the words press on Thy lips,
And Thou send them to Paradise.
Our prayer shall be strong, indeed,
Our offer purest in that case—
For angels, too, when they do pray,
Are praying just in such embrace.
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