Behold the Western Evening Light

Behold the west­ern ev­en­ing light!

It melts in deep­en­ing gloom:

So calm­ly Christ­ians sink away

Descending to the tomb.

The winds breathe low

the wi­ther­ing leaf

Scarce whis­pers from the tree;

So gent­ly flows the part­ing breath

When good men cease to be.

How beau­ti­ful on all the hills

The crim­son light is shed!

’Tis like the peace the Christ­ian gives

To mourn­ers round his bed.

How mild­ly on the wan­der­ing cloud

The sun­set beam is cast!

’Tis like the me­mo­ry left be­hind

When loved ones breathe their last.

And now ab­ove the dew of night

The ves­per star ap­pears:

So faith springs in the heart of those

Whose eyes are dim with tears.

Night falls

but soon the morn­ing light

Its glo­ry shall re­store

And thus the eyes that sleep in death

Shall wake to close no more.