O’er the hills the sun is set­ting,
And the eve is draw­ing on;
Slowly drops the gen­tle twi­light,
For ano­ther day is gone;
Gone for aye—its race is ov­er,
Soon the dark­er shades will come;
Still, ’tis sweet to know at ev­en,
We are one day near­er home.

Worn and weary, oft the pil­grim
Hails the set­ting of the sun;
For the goal is one day near­er,
And the jour­ney near­ly done;
Thus we feel when o’er life’s de­sert,
Heart and san­dal-sore we roam
As the twi­light ga­thers ov­er us,
We are one day near­er home.

Nearer home! yes, one day near­er,
To our Fa­ther’s house on high—
To the green fields and the fount­ains
Of the land be­yond the sky.
For the hea­vens grow bright­er ov­er us,
And the lamps hang in the dome;
And our tents are pitched still clos­er,
For we’re one day clos­er home.

One day near­er, sings the sail­or,
As he glides the wa­ters o’er,
While the light is soft­ly dy­ing
On his dist­ant na­tive shore;
Thus the Chris­tian on life’s ocean
As his light boat cuts the foam,
In the ev­en­ing cries with rap­ture—
I am one day near­er home.