midnight
There was a long , lingering clasp of hands , and the pastor went into his home with tears of joy on his furrowed face , while his smiling lips whispered to his grateful soul : `` In the morning sow thy seed , and in the evening withhold not thy hand ; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper , either this or that , or whether they both shall be alike good . '' Mr. Murray watched the stooping form until it disappeared , and then went slowly back to the silent burying ground , and sat down on the steps of the church . Hour after hour passed and still he sat there , almost as motionless as one of the monuments , while his eyes dwelt as if spellbound , on the dark , dull stain where Annie Hammond had rested , in days long , long past ; and Remorse , more powerful than Erictho , evoked from the charnel house the sweet girlish features and fairy figure of the early dead . His pale face was propped on his hand , and there in the silent watches of the moon-lighted midnight , he held communion with God and his own darkened spirit . `` What hast thou wrought for Right and Truth , For God and man , From the golden hours of bright-eyed youth , To life 's mid-span ? '' His almost Satanic pride was laid low as the dead in their mouldering shrouds , and all the giant strength of his perverted nature was gathered up and hurled in a new direction . The Dead Sea Past moaned and swelled , and bitter waves surged and broke over his heart , but he silently buffeted them ; and the moon rode in mid-heaven when he rose , went around the church , and knelt and prayed , with his forehead pressed to the marble that covered Murray Hammond 's last resting-place .