Standing on the shore at morn­ing,
I beheld the shin­ing sea—
Saw the wreath­ing va­pors mount­ing
Into Hea­ven si­lent­ly;
Silently, si­lent­ly,
Silently, si­lent­ly, from the sea.

Standing on the hill at ev­en­ing,
Clouds stooped gen­tly over me,
Softly from the west as­cend­ing,
And the rain fell si­lent­ly;
Silently, si­lent­ly,
Silently, si­lent­ly, ov­er me.

So, I cried, my spi­rit’s in­cense
Sure re­turn­eth un­to me;
Upward breat­hing, falls in bless­ing,
From our Fa­ther si­lent­ly.
Silently, si­lent­ly,
Silently, si­lent­ly, unto me.

So my life up­striv­ing, soar­ing,
Where nor eye nor tho’t can see;
Comes again des­cend­ing on me,
Filled with im­mor­ta­li­ty.
Silently, si­lent­ly,
Silently, si­lent­ly, un­to me.

And the bliss of hope awak­ens;
Earth and sky I clear­er see;
And I ca­rol, in my glad­ness,
Easter hymns and me­lo­dy.
Joyfulness, hope­ful­ness,
Joyfulness, hope­ful­ness, fill­eth me.