Henry Smart, 1872
Christopher Wordsworth, 1863
The day is gently sinking to a close,
Fainter and yet more faint the sunlight glows.
O Brightness of thy Father's glory, thou
Eternal Light of Light, be with us now.
Where thou art present darkness cannot be;
Midnight is glorious noon, O Lord, with thee.
Our changeful lives are ebbing to an end;
Onward to darkness and to death we tend.
O Conqueror of the grave, be thou our guide,
Be thou our light in death's dark eventide;
Then in our mortal hour will be no gloom,
No sting in death, no terror in the tomb.
Thou, who in darkness walking didst appear
Upon the waves, and thy disciples cheer,
Come, Lord, in lonesome days, when storms assail,
And earthly hopes and human succours fail.
When all is dark may we behold thee nigh,
And hear thy voice: |Fear not, for it is I.|
The weary world is mouldering to decay,
Its glories wane, its pageants fade away;
In that last sunset when the stars shall fall,
May we arise awakened by thy call,
With thee, O Lord, for ever to abide
In that blest day which has no eventide.