When the great sun sinks to his rest,
His gold­en glo­ries thrill­ing me,
And voice­less long­ings stir my breast,
Then teach me, Lord, to wor­ship Thee.

And when the stars—the day­light fled—
In ser­ried, shin­ing ranks I see,
Filling the splen­did vault o’er­head,
Then teach me, Lord, to wor­ship Thee.

If roam­ing by the ocean’s shore,
The mur­mur­ing waves sing low to me,
Or thun­der­ing bil­lows hoars­ely roar,
Then teach me, Lord, to wor­ship Thee.

Or if in so­lemn fo­rest shades,
The calm of na­ture steals o’er me,
And si­lence all my soul per­vades,
Then teach me, Lord, to wor­ship Thee.

Not in the sac­red shrines alone,
Which chime their sum­mons un­to me,
Would I look up­ward to Thy throne,
But ev­ery­where would wor­ship Thee.