Slowly sinks the set­ting sun,
Now the work of day is done;
Lord, we come a thank­ful throng,
Raise to Thee our ev­en­ing song.

For Thy ten­der care be­stowed,
For Thy par­don­ing blood which flowed;
For Thy love that crowns our days,
Lord, ac­cept our grate­ful praise.

And when sets life’s wea­ry sun,
When the toil of earth is done,
To Thy home of per­fect rest,
Lord, re­ceive us, ever blest.

For the robe, the palm, the blood,
May we al­ways praise our God,
And with all the ran­somed throng,
Swell high Hea­ven’s tri­um­phant song.