Night In Heaven

By George Sterling

All the harps of Heaven sang in the timeless noon-tide,
Sang in the day that God had made eternity;
And memory was fled at the drying of the tears,
    Tears that won the Happiness.

Many in their bliss were the souls that had forgotten—
Souls lost in light that hid them each from each;
And their harping as a sea beat on the Throne unceasingly,
    Joyous and terrible.

And vaster from their chords surged the music made marvelous,
Till they sang not as men whom He saved for their lowliness;
Till their quiring was as that of the angels who sinned not,
    Familiar of His glory.

And the Lord thought, "Behold! they are yet as wayward children,
Forgetful with joy, and haughty in their music!
Now shall I cause that their hearts renew their need of Me,
    And one of another."

All the harps of Heaven sang in a sudden twilight,
And the souls gazed each on each in the ebbing of
    His radiance;
Low throbbed the chords till their music was of memory
    And the homes of their sorrow-time.
They sang of toil that ceased, and of kine that left the hillside,
Of dumb things that fed, and of children tired and dusty,
Of the moon great and low, and the warmth of lowly hearths—
    These, and their comforting.

All the harps of Heaven sang in a holy darkness,
And like the stars in dew shone the tears of men remembering,
Weary men and humble, that had the night for slumber-
    Night and its tenderness.

Now if they forget, and the human in their harping
Cease like a flower from the face of things eternal,
Comes again the evening, the shadow of His glory.
    So the souls remember.

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