Scripture Verse

The night cometh, when no man can work. John 9:4


Words: Me­lia Z. Haff­ner, in Chim­ing Voic­es, by James H. Ro­se­crans & J. T. Toof (New York: Asa Hull, 1893), num­ber 32.

Music: Palm Beach J. L. Moore, 1893 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

If you know Moore’s full name, or where to get a good pho­to of him (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


Life seems but a sparkling ri­ver,
Flowing down the steep of time,
Bearing trusting spirits ev­er,
To a happy, holy clime.


Let us, then, be up and do­ing,
Let us labor while we may;
Roses ’round each path­way strew­ing,
Treading softly all life’s way.

We have but a short pro­ba­tion,
Soon our labors will be o’er;
Soon from toil and sore temp­ta­tion,
We shall rest for­ev­er­more!


Yes, the night of death steals o’er us,
Calling us from earth away;
And eternity before us,
Beams with light of end­less day.


Cheering pilgrims, faint and wea­ry,
And with tenderness and love;
Pointing thro’ earth’s dark­ness drea­ry,
To the glo­ri­ous home above.