The sun is sink­ing fast,
The day­light dies;
Let love awake, and pay
Her ev­en­ing sac­ri­fice.

As Christ up­on the cross
His head in­clined,
And to His Fa­ther’s hands
His part­ing soul re­signed;

So now her­self my soul
Would whol­ly give
Into His sac­red charge
In whom all spir­its live;

So now be­neath His eye
Would calm­ly rest,
Without a wish or thought
Abiding in the breast;

Save that His will be done,
Whate’er be­tide;
Dead to her­self, and dead
In Him to all be­side.

Thus would I live: yet now
Not I, but He,
In all His pow­er and love,
Henceforth al­ive in me.

One sac­red Tri­ni­ty,
One Lord di­vine,
May I be ev­er His,
And He for­ev­er mine.