By Annie Atkin Tanner
There is an hour between the close of day,
And the coming in of night,
When twilight drapes the granite folds of mountainsides,
The darkening blue of sea and sky,
The edge of desert loneliness,
With a strange, translucent beauty.
This is a time for quiet meditation,
When tired day welcomes in the tranquil evening time,
The gentle call of drowsy, nesting birds
The sighing sound of wind in willow trees,
The mist-grey velvet of the changing dusk.
In this hour of starless interlude,
We seek for understanding and compassion,
For those who sometimes walk alone;
We ask for courage to meet the problems of each day,
For faith and hope and peace in all the world.
In the twilight hour, we humbly pray.