Fades the glory of the west--

All the crimson and the gold,

Night allures the world to rest

'Neath her mantle's dusky fold.

Ah, my soul, when night descends,

Fear lest slumber bind thee fast,

And the Bridegroom with His friends,

To the marriage hasten past.

He may come--what soul can know?--

When the sun has gone from sight,

When the stars in myriads glow

In the middle of the night.

Think not thou may'st safely dream

Of His coming by and by,

When the morning's early gleam

Wakes the slumberer, from the sky.

Wake, awake, the time is near,

Trim thy lamp, and tend its light;

For the Bridegroom may appear

In the middle of the night.