1 The leaves, around me falling,
Are preaching of decay;
The hollow winds are calling,
Come, pilgrim, come away!
The day, in night declining,
Says I must, too decline;
The year, its life resigning,--
Its lot foreshadows mine.

2 The light my path surrounding,
The loves to which I cling,
The hopes within me bounding,
The joys that round me wing,--
All melt, like stars of even
Before the morning's ray,--
Pass upward into heaven,
And chide at my delay.

3 The friends, gone there before me,
Are calling from on high;
And joyous angels o'er me
Tempt sweetly to the sky;
Why wait, they say, and wither
'Mid scenes of death and sin?
Oh, rise to glory, hither,
And find true life begin.