The day is departing, its hours are past;
The shadows are falling, are falling fast;
The sheaves are at rest on the harvest plain;
The reapers have gathered the golden grain,
The reapers have gathered the golden grain.
Be ready, my soul, for the Lord is near;
The sound of His coming is almost here;
Be ready, for list! they are calling thee!
The bells, the bells of eternity;
The bells, the bells of eternity.
The shadows are creeping o’er vale and hill;
The dews on the mountains are soft and still;
I know that the daylight, with wealth untold,
Is fading away on the hills of gold,
Is fading away on the hills of gold.
The song of the reapers is far away;
No longer they toil in the harvest day;
The moments, now waiting, will soon be o’er;
The day will be gone, and forevermore,
The day will be gone, and forevermore.