A
SUMMER
EVENING
.
I.
HOW
fine
has
the
Day
been
,
how
bright
was
the
Sun
,
How
lovely
and
joyful
the
Course
that
he
run
,
Tho'
he
rose
in
a
Mist
when
his
Race
he
begun
,
And
there
follow'd
some
Droppings
of
Rain
!
But
now
the
fair
Traveller's
come
to
the
West
,
His
Rays
are
all
Gold
,
and
his
Beauties
are
best
;
He
paints
the
Sky
gay
as
he
sinks
to
his
Rest
,
And
foretels
a
bright
Rising
again
.
II
.
Just
such
is
the
Christian
:
His
Course
he
begins
,
Like
the
Sun
in
a
Mist
,
while
he
mourns
for
his
Sins
,
And
melts
into
Tears
:
Then
he
breaks
out
and
shines
,
And
travels
his
heav'nly
Way
:
But
when
he
comes
nearer
to
finish
his
Race
,
Like
a
fine
setting
Sun
he
looks
richer
in
Grace
,
And
gives
a
sure
Hope
at
the
End
of
his
Days
Of
rising
in
brighter
Array
.