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TWILIGHT

“Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.”—Luke xxiv. 29.

108109

J. A. Freylinghausen, † 1739.

tr., Emma Frances Bevan, 1899

The day is gone—my soul looks on

To that eternal Day,

When all our sorrow, all our sin,

Have fled and passed away.

The golden sun is sunk and gone,

Thou Light of Heaven above,

Thou Glory of eternal day,

My sunshine is Thy love.

Each living thing lies slumbering

From care and labour free;

May I, O Lord, be still and watch

Thy hidden work in me.

But when shall cease the changefulness

Of morning and of night?

Then when the Glory of the Lord

Is our eternal Light.

No cloud shall come, no evening gloom

On Salem shall descend;

The Lord her everlasting Day,

Her mourning at an end.

All praise to Thee! Oh there to be

Amidst that music-flood!

The many waters echoing round

The golden shores of God.

O Jesus mine, Thou Rest divine,

Lead me to Zion’s height,

Where I, with all Thy ransomed ones,

Shall walk with Thee in white.

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