1 Beneath Thy trees to-day we met, Amid Thy summer flowers; And every heart is blessing yet These happy, fleeting hours. 2 But creeping shades to vespers call, And timely lore impart, To make our latest shadows fall From sunshine in the heart. 3 Yes, even so; the summer leaf, The summer flowers, declare Their childlike, chastening belief, That Thou dost make them fair. 4 O, let us cherish nature's creed, And live and bloom to Thee; For only childlike hearts, we read, Can grace eternity. 460. P. M. Anonymous. Morning Hymn. 1 Our Father! we thank Thee for sleep, For quiet and peaceable rest; We bless the kind care that doth keep Thy children from being distressed: O, how in their weakness shall children repay Thy fatherly kindness, by night and by day? 2 Our voices shall utter Thy praise, Our hearts shall o'erflow with Thy love; O, teach us to walk in Thy ways, And lift us earth's trials above! The heart's true affection is all we can give; In love's pure devotion, O, help us to live! 3 So long as Thou seest it right That here upon earth we should stay, We pray Thee to guard us by night, And help us to serve Thee by day; And when all the days of this life shall be o'er, Receive us in heaven, to serve Thee the more. 461. L. M. Goethe. Even-Tide. 1 O'er silent field and lonely lawn Her dusky mantle night hath drawn; At twilight's holy, heartfelt hour, In man his better soul hath power. 2 The passions are at peace within, And stilled each stormy thought of sin; The yielding bosom, overawed, Breathes love to man, and love to God. 462. L. M. Edmeston. Sabbath Evening. 1 Sweet is the light of Sabbath eve, And soft the sunbeam lingering there; Those sacred hours this low earth leave, Wafted on wings of praise and prayer. 2 The time, how lovely and how still! Peace shines and smiles on all below; The plain, the stream, the wood, the hill, All fair with evening's setting glow! 3 Season of rest! the tranquil soul Feels thy sweet calm, and melts in love; And while these sacred moments roll, Faith sees a smiling heaven above. 4 Thou God of mercy, swift to hear, More swift than man to tell his need; Be Thou to us, this evening, near, And to Thy fount our spirits lead! 463. S. M. Briggs' Coll. Seasons for Prayer.