GARDEN CITY S.M. |
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WORSHIP |
Our day of praise is done;
The evening shadows fall; But pass not from us with the sun, True Light that lightenest all.
Around the throne on high,
Where night can never be, The white-robed harpers of the sky Bring ceaseless hymns to Thee.
Too faint our anthems here;
Too soon of praise we tire; But 0, the strains, how full and clear, Of that eternal choir!
'Tis Thine each soul to calm,
Each wayward thought reclaim, And make our life a daily psalm Of glory to Thy name.
A little while, and then
Shall come the glorious end; And songs of angels and of men In perfect praise shall blend.
Our day of praise is done; |
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John Ellerton, 1871 | Horatio Parker,1893 |