A crescent moon hangs in the sky
Veiled by fleeting clouds and mist.
She bows in shimmering, golden light...
A weary world is kissed.
And lo our heavenly Father sighs...
A balmy breeze hath touched earth's face
As if it wants to cool and calm
Our feverish, frantic pace.
And what's that lullaby I hear?
Ah! 'Tis the evening whippoorwill
Singing out in dulcet tones,
"O troubled heart be still."
And lest we waken in the night
With sorrow, doubts and countless fears,
A thousand stars shall keep their watch
'Til morning light appears.
Thank you, Lord, for gentle grace
That comforts us at eventide.
As we lie down to take our rest...
Reposed upon the Father's breast...
Assured tomorrow shall be blest...
Thy faithfulness abides.
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