Swiftly the years, with their hopes and fears,
With their share of joy and sor­row,
Ever haste away, and the part­ing day
Seems to sigh for the com­ing mor­row.
Hearts may ache, and hearts may break,
Friends may die and ter­rors wake,
And our vi­sions seem ap­pal­ling;
While the tide of time shall roll,
Pangs of grief may whelm the soul,
’Midst the dark­ness ’round us fall­ing,

Refrain

For the years must come and go,
And the streams of sor­row flow;
Till be­yond the dark, dark ri­ver;
There will be no fleet­ing years;
There will be no sighs or tears,
But a feast of joy for­ev­er!

Happiest hours, like the bloom­ing flow­ers,
Pass away we know not whi­ther;
And with ach­ing heart, with the loved we part,
Earthly hopes like the blos­soms wi­ther.
While the days shall come and go,
Let us ban­ish hu­man woe,
Let us dry the tears of ang­uish;
Let us com­fort those who grieve,
Daily striv­ing to re­lieve,
Faint and wea­ry ones who lang­uish.

Refrain

Happy the days which in grate­ful praise,
We re­joic­ing spend to­ge­ther;
But a hap­pier time in a bright­er clime
Shall be ours, and be ours for­ev­er.
And the time is draw­ing nigh,
As the days are go­ing by,
Days that find no fond re­turn­ing;
Let us haste the heav’n­ly way,
Let us ev­er watch and pray,
While the lamp of life is burn­ing.

Refrain