Clouds of darkness fill
The vastness of the sacred aisles....
... A few short years ago
And all the temple courts were thronged with those
Who worshiped and gave thanks before they went
To take their rest. Who shall bless
His name at midnight?
"Lo! a band of pale
Yet joyful priests do minister around
The altar, where the lights are burning low
In the breathless night. Each grave brow wears the crown
Of sorrow, and each heart is kept awake
By its own restless pain: for these are they
To whom the night-watch is appointed. See!
They lift their hands and bless God in the night
Whilst we are sleeping: Those to whom the King
Has measured out a cup of sorrow, sweet
With his dear love; yet very hard to drink,
Are waking in his temple; and the eyes
That cannot sleep for sorrow or for pain
Are lifted up to heaven, and sweet low songs
Broken by patient tears, arise to God.
"The priests must serve
Each in his course, and we must stand in turn
Awake with sorrow in the temple dim,
To bless the Lord by night. We will not fear
When we are called at midnight by some stroke
Of sudden pain, to rise and minister
Before the Lord. We too will bless his name
In the solemn night, and stretch out our hands to him.
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