The Sun Is Fast Descending


The sun is fast descending
His circuit from on high;
The shades of eve are blending
With yonder distant sky;
Soon will the landscape vanish,
And sable darkness banish
These scenes from mortal eye.

Thus too our days are ending,
The race will soon be run,
Our sun is fast descending;
Our work is almost done.
Soon will our Master greet us,
And heav’nly legions meet us
To waft us to our home.

Then pilgrims! come, delay not
On this unfriendly ground,
And in the desert say not,
That you have Canaan found.
The fiery pillar leads us,
The promised manna feeds us,
But barren is the ground.

Come tune the harp to gladness,
A song of Zion sing;
Away with thoughts of sadness,
We’ll praise our heav’nly king.
Our trials and our crosses,
Our sufferings and our losses,
But keep us near to him.

But Zion! when we raise thee
A song in distant lands,
The harp that fain would praise thee,
Falls tuneless from our hands.
Our hearts, distress’d and lonely,
Can leap for gladness only
In thy dear happy land.