The day is gent­ly sink­ing to a close,
Fainter and yet more faint the sun­light glows;
O bright­ness of Thy Fa­ther’s glo­ry, Thou
Eternal light of light, be with us now:
Where Thou art pre­sent dark­ness cannot be,
Midnight is glo­ri­ous noon, O Lord, with Thee.

Our change­ful lives are ebb­ing to an end,
Onward to dark­ness and to death we tend;
O Con­quer­or of the grave, be Thou our guide;
Be Thou our light in death’s dark ev­en­tide;
Then in our mor­tal hour will be no gloom,
No sting in death, no ter­ror in the tomb.

Thou, who in dark­ness walk­ing didst ap­pear
Upon the waves, and Thy dis­ci­ples cheer,
Come, Lord, in lone­some days, when storms as­sail,
And earth­ly hopes and hu­man suc­cors fail,
When all is dark, may we be­hold Thee nigh,
And hear Thy voice, Fear not, for it is I.

The wea­ry world is mol­der­ing to decay,
Its glo­ries wane, its pa­geants fade away:
In that last sun­set, when the stars shall fall,
May we arise, awak­ened by Thy call,
With Thee, O Lord, for­ev­er to ab­ide,
In that blest day which has no ev­en­tide.