Go down, great sun, into thy golden west,
The day is done, the hours of labor past;
The night’s dark shadows deepen all around;
The day is over; rest has come at last.
And so our life to even-tide draws nigh,
Our days of change their course have almost run;
And soon the storms of winter will be past,
And then comes summer, and the unsetting sun.
And in that holier world of joy and peace,
Our sun shall rise upon a land so blest,
That none in this poor world have words to tell
How great the joy of that pure heavenly rest.