Hope Is Kindled

In the deepest hour of night,

When fellest deeds are wrought in sight

Of palest moon and flick’ring star,

And hour of dawn is yet afar;

When the wolves their chilling din

Proclaim, that now they prowl again,

And the shadows ‘neath the trees

Lurk like phantoms, wandering;

Yet, the fear of darkness deep

Cannot hope from wand’rer keep;

Lo, a light on distant peak

Through the midnight shadows streaks.

Bids this light, “Come hither, rest”,

And to the weary, troubled breast

A spark of warmth and joy is giv’n

Beneath the brightest stars of heaven.