Hail tran­quil hour of clos­ing day!
Begone, dis­turb­ing care!
And look, my soul, from earth away
To Him who hear­eth pray­er.

How sweet the tear of pe­ni­tence,
Before His throne of grace,
While, to the con­trite spi­rit’s sense,
He shows His smil­ing face.

How sweet, through long re­mem­bered years,
His mer­cies to recall,
And, pressed with wants and griefs and fears,
To trust His love for all.

How sweet to look, in thought­ful hope,
Beyond this fad­ing sky,
And hear Him call His child­ren up
To His fair home on high.

Calmly the day for­sakes our hea­ven
To dawn be­yond the west;
So let my soul, in life’s last ev­en,
Retire to glo­ri­ous rest.