CONVENT ECHOES
By Helen Louise Moriarty
Clear on the air, their pulsing cadence pealing,I hear a sweet refrain,While o’er my thoughts a gentle mist is stealing,And mem’ries come again,Of quiet halls where dusk is slow descending,Where peace has spread her wings.Soft music in the distance only lendingMore charms where twilight clings.Anon appear the black robed nuns, their facesSerene in sweet repose;Across their brows the world has left no tracesOf earthly dreams or woes.Now loud on air the organ music swelling,They reach the chapel door—The sweet faint incense stealing upward, telling’Tis Benediction’s hour.Now low-bowed heads, and hearts to Him ascendingOn incense laden air.Ah surely Heaven must smile with ear attendingThe nun’s low whispered prayer.
Clear on the air, their pulsing cadence pealing,I hear a sweet refrain,While o’er my thoughts a gentle mist is stealing,And mem’ries come again,Of quiet halls where dusk is slow descending,Where peace has spread her wings.Soft music in the distance only lendingMore charms where twilight clings.Anon appear the black robed nuns, their facesSerene in sweet repose;Across their brows the world has left no tracesOf earthly dreams or woes.Now loud on air the organ music swelling,They reach the chapel door—The sweet faint incense stealing upward, telling’Tis Benediction’s hour.Now low-bowed heads, and hearts to Him ascendingOn incense laden air.Ah surely Heaven must smile with ear attendingThe nun’s low whispered prayer.
Clear on the air, their pulsing cadence pealing,I hear a sweet refrain,While o’er my thoughts a gentle mist is stealing,And mem’ries come again,
Clear on the air, their pulsing cadence pealing,
I hear a sweet refrain,
While o’er my thoughts a gentle mist is stealing,
And mem’ries come again,
Of quiet halls where dusk is slow descending,Where peace has spread her wings.Soft music in the distance only lendingMore charms where twilight clings.
Of quiet halls where dusk is slow descending,
Where peace has spread her wings.
Soft music in the distance only lending
More charms where twilight clings.
Anon appear the black robed nuns, their facesSerene in sweet repose;Across their brows the world has left no tracesOf earthly dreams or woes.
Anon appear the black robed nuns, their faces
Serene in sweet repose;
Across their brows the world has left no traces
Of earthly dreams or woes.
Now loud on air the organ music swelling,They reach the chapel door—The sweet faint incense stealing upward, telling’Tis Benediction’s hour.
Now loud on air the organ music swelling,
They reach the chapel door—
The sweet faint incense stealing upward, telling
’Tis Benediction’s hour.
Now low-bowed heads, and hearts to Him ascendingOn incense laden air.Ah surely Heaven must smile with ear attendingThe nun’s low whispered prayer.
Now low-bowed heads, and hearts to Him ascending
On incense laden air.
Ah surely Heaven must smile with ear attending
The nun’s low whispered prayer.
Fond memory lingers on those dim old hallways—Lingers and drops a tear,And kind affection drapes the picture alwaysThrough each succeeding year.
Fond memory lingers on those dim old hallways—Lingers and drops a tear,And kind affection drapes the picture alwaysThrough each succeeding year.
Fond memory lingers on those dim old hallways—Lingers and drops a tear,And kind affection drapes the picture alwaysThrough each succeeding year.
Fond memory lingers on those dim old hallways—
Lingers and drops a tear,
And kind affection drapes the picture always
Through each succeeding year.