at the end of the day
weakly calls to weakness
asking for a silent peace
to attend my way.
O God make speed
to save,
O LORD make haste
to help us.
Incense rises
on some altar
daises in the
islands of
Greece,
on the Holy Mountain,
and at Sinai.
I hear the crackle
of the candle flame, slowly
hissing as it burns
the beeswax up and
through the wick.
As wax melts from
the fire, may those
who hate THEE flee from
before Your throne.
Words rise up,
all over the world,
as day comes to rest
in the evening
vesperal light.
O Gladsome Light,
sing on from the
fourth century,
call our hearts
in the groan that is a
chant and a cry.
Now lettest
Thou Thy servant
depart in peace,
according
to THY word.
TJM+
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