WHEN THE NIGHT AND MORNING MEET.
In the dark and narrow street,
Into a world of woe,
Where the tread of many feet
Went trampling to and fro,
A child was born—speak low!
When the night and morning meet.
Into a world of woe,
Where the tread of many feet
Went trampling to and fro,
A child was born—speak low!
When the night and morning meet.
Full seventy summers back
Was this; so long ago,
The feet that wore the track
Are lying straight and low,—
Yet hath there been no lack
Of passers to and fro.
Was this; so long ago,
The feet that wore the track
Are lying straight and low,—
Yet hath there been no lack
Of passers to and fro.
Within the narrow street
This childhood ever played;
Beyond the narrow street
This manhood never strayed;
This age sat still and prayed
Anear the trampling feet.
This childhood ever played;
Beyond the narrow street
This manhood never strayed;
This age sat still and prayed
Anear the trampling feet.
The tread of ceaseless feet
Flowed through his life, unstirred
Flowed through his life, unstirred
