What day thou gavest, Lord, is ended,What darkness falls at thy behest,To thee our mourning hymns ascended,Thy praises sanctify our rest.We thank thee that thy church and sleepingWhile at home,Death rose onward into light,Through all the world her watch is keeping,And rests not now by day or night.Azor,Each continent and island,The dawn leads on another day.The voice of prayer is never silent,Nor dies the strain.Of praise away.The sun that bids us rest is waking,Our brethren neath the western sky,And are by our side.Our fresh lips are makingThy wondrous doings heard on high.So be it, Lord,Thy throne shall never,Like earth's proud empires pass away.Thy kingdom stands and grows forever,Till all thy creaturesOwn thy throne.I sway!
