The day is gently sinking to a close (Henry Thomas Smart): Difference between revisions
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==Music files== | ==Music files== | ||
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*{{CPDLno|22428}} [[Media:The_day_is_gently_sinking.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:The_day_is_gently_sinking.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:The_day_is_gently_sinking.cap|{{Cap}}]] | *{{CPDLno|22428}} [[Media:The_day_is_gently_sinking.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:The_day_is_gently_sinking.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:The_day_is_gently_sinking.cap|{{Cap}}]] | ||
{{Editor|James Gibb|2010-10-09}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|1|17}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | {{Editor|James Gibb|2010-10-09}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|1|17}}{{Copy|CPDL}} |
Revision as of 06:33, 5 March 2017
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- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2010-10-09). Score information: A4, 1 page, 17 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: The day is gently sinking to its close
Composer: Henry Thomas Smart
Tune: Nachtlied
Lyricist: Christopher Wordsworth
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Sacred, Hymn Meter: 10 10. 10 10. 10 10
Language: English
Instruments: A cappella or keyboard
{{Published}} is obsolete (code commented out), replaced with {{Pub}} for works and {{PubDatePlace}} for publications.
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
1. The day is gently sinking to a close,
Fainter and yet more faint the sunlight glows:
O Brightness of Thy Father’s glory,
Thou eternal Light of light, be with us now:
Where Thou art present darkness cannot be;
Midnight is glorious noon, O Lord, with Thee.
2. Our changeful lives are ebbing to an end;
Onward to darkness and to death we tend;
O Conqueror of the grave, be Thou our Guide;
Be Thou our Light in death’s dark eventide;
Then in our mortal hour will be no gloom,
No sting in death, no terror in the tomb.
3. Thou, who in darkness walking didst appear
Upon the waves, and Thy disciples cheer,
Come, Lord, in lonesome days, when storms assail,
And earthly hopes and human succours fail;
When all is dark, may we behold Thee nigh,
And hear Thy voice, “Fear not, for it is I.”
4. The weary world is mouldering to decay,
Its glories wane, its pageants fade away:
In that last sunset, when the stars shall fall,
May we arise, awakened by Thy call,
With Thee, O Lord, forever to abide,
In that blest day which has no eventide.