Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.@Luke 24:29
portrait
John B. Dykes (1823-1876)

Caroline L. Smith, 1852. Smith was inspired to write this hymn after hearing a sermon by Henry M. Dexter of Boston on The Adaptedness of Religion to the Wants of the Aged. The words were recast in the Plymouth Collection, 1855, and Songs of the Church, 1862.

St. Sylvester John B. Dykes, 1862 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Tarry with me, O my Savior,
For the day is passing by;
See! the shades of evening gather,
And the night is drawing nigh.

Deeper, deeper grow the shadows,
Paler now the glowing west,
Swift the night of death advances;
Shall it be the night of rest?

Lonely seems the vale of shadow;
Sinks my heart with troubled fear;
Give me faith for clearer vision,
Speak Thou, Lord, in words of cheer.

Let me hear Thy voice behind me,
Calming all these wild alarms;
Let me, underneath my weakness,
Feel the everlasting arms.

Feeble, trembling, fainting, dying,
Lord, I cast myself on Thee;
Tarry with me through the darkness;
While I sleep, still watch by me.

Tarry with me, O my Savior,
Lay my head upon Thy breast
Till the morning; then awake me—
Morning of eternal rest.

Here is Smith’s original version, which can be sung to the following tunes:

Tarry with me, O my Saviour!
For the day is passing by;
See, the shades of evening gather,
And the night is drawing nigh;
Tarry with me—tarry with me;
Pass me not unheeded by!

Many friends were gathered round me,
In the bright days of the past;
But the grave has closed above them,
And I linger here the last!
I am lonely: tarry with me
Till this dreary night is past.

Dimmed for me is earthly beauty;
Yet the spirit’s eye would fain
Rest upon thy lovely features:
Shall I seek, dear Lord, in vain?
Tarry with me, O my Saviour!
Let me see thy smile again.

Dull my ear to earth-born music:
Speak thou, Lord! in words of cheer;
Feeble, tottering my footstep,
Sinks my heart with sudden fear:
Cast thine arms, dear Lord! around me,
Let me feel thy presence near.

Faithful memory paints before me
Every deed and thought of sin;
Open thou the blood-filled fountain,
Cleanse my guilty soul within:
Tarry, thou forgiving Saviour!
Wash me wholly from my sin.

Deeper, deeper grow the shadows;
Paler now the glowing west;
Swift the night of death advances,—
Shall it be a night of rest?
Tarry with me, O my Saviour!
Lay my head upon thy breast.

Feeble, trembling, panting, dying,
Lord! I cast myself on thee:
Tarry with me through the darkness,
While I sleep, still watch by me,
Till the morning,—then awake me
Dearest Lord! to dwell with thee.