The day is done,
And, left alone,
My heart is fill'd with yearning
For the morn when grief and care
Shall have no returning.
The night is here,
Oh! be Thou near,
Christ, make it light within me;
Chase the darkness from my heart
That to ill might win me.
The sun's sweet light
Is sunk in night;
Oh Brightness uncreated,
Shine with joy on us who here
Long for Thee have waited.
Each living thing
Is slumbering,
While darkness round is closing;
Work Thou silently in me
While I lie reposing.
Ah when shall day
Have perfect sway,
By night no more attended?
When that fairest morn shall break
That shall ne'er be ended.
For Salem then
Shall ne'er again
Behold her brightness vanish,
Since the Lamb shall be her light,
And all night shall banish.
Oh were I there!
Where all the air
With lovely sounds is ringing,
Where the saints Thee, Holy Lord,
Evermore are singing!
Lord Jesus, Thou
My rest art now;
Grant me to stand before Thee,
Radiant with Thy light to shine,
And for aye adore Thee!
Source: Chorale Book for England, The #168