Dark fall the hours this win­ter-tide,
Strange si­lence reigns on ev­ery side,
And day seems wrapped in gloom,
Save few short hours, which, all too brief,
Light up bare tree and fall­en leaf,
Then fade in hap­less doom.

Now let each lamp be burn­ing bright,
Lest, un­aware, the sud­den night
Enshroud us in the dark,
And we in vain, through snow and cold,
With wa­ver­ing feet, seek out the fold,
And Love’s all shel­ter­ing ark.

O si­lent hours of win­try days,
From sum­mer’s joy and gold­en rays,
From au­tumn’s har­vest song,
We turn to you, for ye re­veal
The wait­ing bride, and make us feel,
The Bride­groom comes ere long.