Soft and sweet the day is closing
And the western sky, aglow,
Draws my soul in tender yearning
To the time of long ago.

Happy memories are thronging
As I sit in silence here;
All forgotten are the sorrows
As the past is drawing near.

Soft and low there echoes faintly
Just the music of a hymn
While the twilight shadows cluster
And the light is growing dim.

In the glowing of the sunset,
In the twilight’s dusky gleam,
How they come—the loved and vanished—
Like the spectres of a dream!

But I know they come—the old days!
And the ones who made them sweet
Throng about me in the gloaming,
And our spirits know and greet.

Oh, the sweetest, happiest hour
That my soul doth ever know
Bringeth memories, bringeth dear ones
From the years of long ago!

In the light of Easter glory
You have entered the mystical way,
Which trends through the wonderful garden
That is sweetened by Love’s firm sway.

Ah! the joy that the Easter marriage
Bringeth close to your souls—made one—
Is the thought of your deathless union
That the blood of the Lamb hath won.

Anna B. Bensel
A Voice from the Silence, 1917