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| GOD’S love and peace be with thee, where | |
| Soe’er this soft autumnal air | |
| Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair! | |
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| Whether through city casements comes | |
| Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms, | 5 |
| Or, out among the woodland blooms, | |
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| It freshens o’er thy thoughtful face, | |
| Imparting, in its glad embrace, | |
| Beauty to beauty, grace to grace! | |
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| Fair Nature’s book together read, | 10 |
| The old wood-paths that knew our tread, | |
| The maple shadows overhead,— | |
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| The hills we climbed, the river seen | |
| By gleams along its deep ravine,— | |
| All keep thy memory fresh and green. | 15 |
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| Where’er I look, where’er I stray, | |
| Thy thought goes with me on my way, | |
| And hence the prayer I breathe to-day: | |
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| O’er lapse of time and change of scene, | |
| The weary waste which lies between | 20 |
| Thyself and me, my heart I lean. | |
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| Thou lack’st not Friendship’s spellword, nor | |
| The half-unconscious power to draw | |
| All hearts to thine by Love’s sweet law. | |
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| With these good gifts of God is cast | 25 |
| Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast | |
| To hold the blessèd angels fast. | |
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| If, then, a fervent wish for thee | |
| The gracious heavens will heed from me, | |
| What should, dear heart, its burden be? | 30 |
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| The sighing of a shaken reed,— | |
| What can I more than meekly plead | |
| The greatness of our common need? | |
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| God’s love,—unchanging, pure, and true,— | |
| The Paraclete white-shining through | 35 |
| His peace,—the fall of Hermon’s dew! | |
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| With such a prayer, on this sweet day, | |
| As thou mayst hear and I may say, | |
| I greet thee, dearest, far away! | |
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