The mellow eve is gliding

Serenely down the west;

So, every care subsiding,

My soul would sink to rest.

2 The woodland hum is ringing

The daylight’s gentle close;

May angels round me, singing,

Thus hymn my last repose.

3 The evening star has lighted

Her crystal lamp on high;

So, when in death benighted,

May hope illume the sky.

4 In golden splendor dawning,

The morrow’s light shall break;

O, on the last bright morning

May I in glory wake!