The day of praise is done,
The evening shadows fall;
Yet pass not from us with the sun,
True Light that lightenest all.
Around thy throne on high,
Where night can never be,
The white-robed harpers of the skies
Bring ceaseless hymns to Thee.
Too faint our anthems here;
Too soon of praise we tire;
But oh! the strains, how full and clear
Of that Eternal Choir!
Yet, Lord, to thy dear will,
If Thou attune the heart,
We in thine angels’ music still
May bear an humble part.
‘Tis thine each soul to calm,
Each wayward thought reclaim,
And make our daily life a psalm
Of glory to thy Name.
Shine Thou within us, then,
A Day that knows no end,
Till songs of angels and of men
In perfect praise shall blend. Amen.
Alfred Young, The Catholic Hymnal (New York: The Catholic Publication Society Co., 1888).