Softly the si­lent night fall­eth from God,
On, wea­ry wan­der­ers, ov­er life’s road;
And as the stars on high light up the dark­en­ing sky,
Lord, unto Thee we cry—Fa­ther above.

Softly on fail­ing wing day­light has passed;
Sleep, like an an­gel, kind, folds us at last;
Peace be our lot this night, safe be our slum­ber light,
Watched by Thy an­gels bright, Fa­ther above.

And when the gleam of morn touch­es our eyes,
And the re­turn­ing day bids us arise,
Happy be­neath Thy will, stead­fast in joy or ill,
Lord, may we serve Thee still, Fa­ther above.