There has come to my mind a legend,
A thing I had half forgot,
And whether I read it or dreamed it—
Ah well, it matters not.
It is said that in heaven at twilight
A great bell softly swings,
And man may listen and hearken
To the wonderful music that rings.
If he puts from his heart’s inner chamber
All the passion, pain and strife,
Heartaches and weary longings
That throb in the pulses of life;
If he thrusts from his soul all hatred,
All thoughts of wicked things,
He can hear in the holy twilight
How the bell of the angels rings.
And I think there is in this legend,
If we open our eyes to see,
Somewhat of an inner meaning,
My friend, to you and me;
Let us look in our hearts and question—
"Can pure thought enter in
To a soul if it be already
The dwelling of thoughts of sin?”
So, then, let us ponder a little;
Let us look in our hearts, and see
If the twilight bell of the angels
Could ring for you and me.