The golden light mounts thick on evening haze,
In parting leaves and comely wheat, the world,
And all between sits overbrimming full.
The beauty of the winking hour's flush,
Falls like a fever in the early spring,
So hot and freezing cold - why must it end when I begin?
Why does the beauty fade so soon?
Why do such beauties flame in gold?
Why would it ever soot or snuff or fall to stagnant coals?
O You unfaded light and golden days!
How could You let these fall to deepest night,
But I have seen your grace, though it dismays.
I will lift up Your praise, O faithful light,
So merciful and glorious, what love,
His arm ever outstretched though we despise.

What it is to have the ball rolling,
I missed you pattern, well for clarity:
I haven't held you just so close in quite the while,
But now the day is tamer and my hands
Don't stir to idle tasks but march in ranks.

Laughter for your dreary disposition,
Merrier when others chase away the solitude,
Better when in fellowship with a godly brother,
Edified by resounding clashes of iron,
I'll cry the selfsame phrase aloud:
What grace is fellowship in my home.