How sweet the hour of clos­ing day!
When all is peace­ful and se­rene;
And the broad sun’s re­tir­ing ray,
Sheds a mild lus­ter o’er the scene!

Such is the Chris­tian’s part­ing hour,
So peace­ful­ly he sinks to rest;
When faith, re­kind­ling all its pow­er,
Lights up the lan­guor of his breast.

There is a ra­di­ance in his eye,
A smile up­on his wast­ed cheek,
That seems to tell of glo­ry nigh,
In lang­uage that no tongue can speak.

A beam from Heav’n is sent to cheer
The pil­grim on his gloo­my road;
And an­gels are at­tend­ing near,
To bear him to their bright abode.

Who would not wish to die like those
Whom God’s own Spir­it deigns to bless?
To sink into that soft re­pose,
Then wake to per­fect hap­pi­ness?

O Lord, that we may thus de­part,
Thy joys to share, Thy face to see,
Impress Thine im­age on our heart,
And teach us now to walk with Thee.