The Parting Voluntary

The music dies — anon its slumbering wave
Breaks forth, and from the opening flood-gate floats
With its full tide along the echoing nave,
Summoning to new strength its dying notes,
Then sinks again, — like the last flash of light
Fitfully breaking ere the fall of night.

E'en thus on these our waning centuries,
Feeble and faint compared with earlier years,
The Gospel broke, when there was seen to rise
"The second Temple and deserving tears;"
Now bursts forth the last ebbing tide, — once more
Aid our poor efforts till we gain the shore !