The day, O Lord, is spent;
Abide with us, and rest;
Our hearts’ de­sires are ful­ly bent
On mak­ing Thee our guest.

We have not reached that land,
That hap­py land, as yet,
Where ho­ly an­gels round Thee stand,
Whose sun can ne­ver set.

Our sun is sink­ing now;
Our day is al­most o’er;
O Sun of Right­eous­ness, do Thou
Shine on us ev­er­more.

From men be­low the skies,
And all the hea­ven­ly host,
To God the Fa­ther praise arise,
The Son, and Ho­ly Ghost.