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.