"The dying words of Goethe." "Light! more light! the shadows deepen, And my life is ebbing low, Throw the windows widely open: Light! more light! before I go. "Softly let the balmy sunshine Play around my dying bed, E'er the dimly lighted valley I with lonely feet must tread. "Light! more light! for Death is weaving Shadows 'round my waning sight, And I fain would gaze upon him Through a stream of earthly light." Not for greater gifts of genius; Not for thoughts more grandly bright, All the dying poet whispers Is a prayer for light, more light. Heeds he not the gathered laurels, Fading slowly from his sight; All the poet's aspirations Centre in that prayer for light. Gracious Saviour, when life's day-dreams Melt and vanish from the sight, May our dim and longing vision Then be blessed with light, more light.