When Southern moonlight softly falls,
When Day has died and stars unfold,
From Jasmine-scented groves--Oh, Love!
A Mocking-bird with Lyre of Gold!
All of your tears, all of your sighs;
All of Life's joys that thrill you through;
God's benediction and His love--
Are speaking in those notes to you.
All that you long'd and meant to be;
Your pray'rs, your dreams--(Oh, earthly bars!)
Are mounting, mounting, with that voice.
Straight up God's stairway to the stars!