Monasticism

The light is wanes upon the evensong

and night brings its sweetest song.

Vespers in the dusk,

Liturgy in the morn.

The world, its cares are all forlorn

but, in this world, we pray for those who mourn.

Brightness fills its essence sure,

for these souls, who relinquish all.

A world for those Heaven bound

through struggles, journey long.

Whose hearts have found

that sweetest sound, of God upon their tongues.

With evensong they raise their voices high,

till the morning has drawn nigh.

No sweet slumber for their heads,

until the procession it has led,

unto the glory of Heaven high.

Thence, is time for bed.