at last,
To rest, and love, and Thee._

From our journeyings oft and many over strange and stormy seas,
From our search the wide world over for the larger liberties,
From our labours vast and various,
With our harvestings precarious,--
_Evening brings us home at last,
To safety, rest, and Thee._

From the yet-untrodden No-Lands, where we sought Thy secrets out,
From the blizzards of the Nightlands, and the
blazing White-Lands' drought,
From the undiscovered country
Where our IS is yet to be,--
_Evening brings us home at last,
To welcome cheer, and Thee._

From the temples of our living, all empurpled with Thy giving,
From the warp of life thick-threaded with the gold of Thine inweaving,
From the days so full of splendour,
From the visions rare and tender,--
_Evening brings us home at last,
To quiet rest in Thee._

From the Dim-Lands, from the Grim-Lands,
from the Lands of High Emprise,
From the Lands of Disillusion to the Truth that never dies;
With rejoicing and with singing,
Each his rightful sheaves home-bringing,--
_Evening brings us all at last,
To Harvest-Home with Thee._

From the fields of fiery trying, where our bravest and our best,
By their living and their dying their souls' high faith attest,
From these dread, red fields of sorrow,
From the fight for Thy To-morrow,--
_Evening brings each one at last,
To GOD'S own Peace in Thee._

THE REAPER

All through the blood-red Autumn,
When the harvest came to the full;
When the days were sweet with sunshine,
And the nights were wonderful,--
_The Reaper reaped without ceasing._

All through the roaring Winter,
When the skies were black with wrath,
When earth alone slept soundly,
And the seas were white with froth,--
_The Reaper reaped without ceasing._

All through the quick of the Spring-time,
When the birds sang cheerily,
When the trees and the flowers were burgeoning,
And men went wearily,--
_The Reaper reaped without ceasing._

All through the blazing Summer,
When the year was at its best,
When Earth, subserving God alone,
In her fairest robes was dressed,--
_The Reaper reaped without ceasing._

So, through the Seasons' roundings,
While nature waxed and waned