Far, far o’er hill and dale, on the winds stealing,

List to the tolling bell, mournfully pealing,

Hark, hark, it seems to say, as melt those sounds away,

So earthly joys decay, while new their feeling!

2 Now through the charméd air, on the winds stealing,

List to the mourner’s prayer, solemnly bending:

Hark, hark, it seems to say, turn from those joys away,

To those which ne’er decay, for life is ending.

3 So when our mortal ties death shall dissever,

Lord, may we reach the skies where care comes never,

And in eternal day, joining the angels’ lay,

To our Creator pay homage for ever.