Before the day draws near its end­ing,
And ev­en­ing steals o’er earth and sky,
Once more to Thee our hymns as­cend­ing
Shall speak Thy prais­es, Lord most high.

Thy name is blessed by count­less num­bers
In vast­er worlds, un­seen, un­known,
Whose du­te­ous ser­vice nev­er slum­bers,
In per­fect love, and fault­less tone.

Yet Thou will not des­pise the weak­est
Who here in spir­it bend the knee;
Thy Christ hath said, Thou, Fa­ther, seek­est
For such as these to wor­ship thee.

And through the swell of chant­ing voic­es,
The blend­ed notes of age and youth,
Thine ear des­cends, Thy love re­joic­es,
When hearts rise up to Thee in truth.

O Light all clear, O Truth all ho­ly,
O bound­less Mer­cy, par­don­ing all;
Before Thy feet, ab­ashed and low­ly,
With one last pray­er Thy child­ren fall.

When we no more on earth ad­ore Thee,
And oth­ers wor­ship here in turn,
O may we sing that song be­fore Thee
Which none but Thy re­deemed can learn.