The Day Of Praise Is Done


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 sky
Bring ceaseless songs 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 our lower part.

‘T is 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, the,
A day that knows no end,
Till songs of angels and of men
In prefect praise shall blend.

Hymnal: according to the use of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America,