The Mellow Eve Is Gliding

The mel­low eve is glid­ing

Serenely down the west;

So

ev­ery care sub­sid­ing

My soul would sink to rest.

The wood­land hum is ring­ing

The day­light’s gen­tle close;

May an­gels round me

sing­ing

Thus hymn my last re­pose.

The ev­en­ing star has light­ed

Her crys­tal lamp on high;

So

when in death be­night­ed

May hope il­lume the sky.

In gold­en splen­dor dawn­ing

The mor­row’s light shall break;

Oh

on the last bright morn­ing

May I in glo­ry wake!