1 Go down, great sun, into thy golden west,
The day is done, the hours of labor past;
The night’s dark shadows deepen all around;
The day is over; rest has come at last.

2 And so our life to even-tide draws nigh,
Our days of change their course have almost run;
And soon the storms of winter will be past,
And then comes summer, and the unsetting sun.

3 And in that holier world of joy and peace,
Our sun shall rise upon a land so blest,
That none in this poor world have words to tell
How great the joy of that pure heavenly rest.