The shin­ing of the ear­li­est star,
Unveiled from pur­ple shades afar
That bright­en o’er the brow of night,
Can bring no cheer, amid its beams,
More bright than through this pro­mise gleams:
At ev­en­ing time there shall be light.

There shall be light—O wan­der­er! say,
Groping through tears thy wea­ry way,
Hath hope in sha­dows tak­en flight?
There shines a love-star o’er the tomb,
And sing the an­gels through the gloom:
At ev­en­ing time there shall be light.

And seest thou, through the dy­ing day,
That bright­er shines the love­ly ray
As dark­er grows the com­ing night?
And hear­est thou, through the twi­light calm,
The sil­very sweet­ness of this psalm,
At ev­en­ing time there shall be light?

As erst around the Bet­hel Stone
A gleam of Hea­ven’s own glo­ry shone,
The pil­grim saw, in vi­sions bright,
Down star­ry steeps a band des­cend,
And se­raph tones in chor­us blend,
At ev­en­ing time, and there was light.

And as the Ma­gi turned their way
Toward the in­fant Sav­ior lay,
And one pure star had crowned the night,
Methinks o’er plains of far Ju­dea,
His her­alds’ voic­es sound­ed clear,
At ev­en­ing time there shall be light.

Untouched by earth’s in­sen­sate things,
We hear the sound of ang­el wings
Down droop­ing in their dis­tant flight—
We see the sha­dows melt away,
With sil­ve­ry voic­es soft­ly say,
At ev­en­ing time there shall be light.

No frown­ing dark­ness of the grave,
No mur­murs of the sul­len wave
Our feet have touched, can bring af­fright,
As, float­ing from the star­ry spheres,
Sounds the glad hymn of end­less years,
At ev­en­ing time there shall be light.