When the weary day at last
With its cares and strife is past;
When I lay me down to sleep,
While the angels vigils keep,
Comes an echo far away
Of the doings of the day.
Ere my weary eyelids close,
Ere my being seeks repose.
Comes a voice from far away:
“What hast thou performed this day?”
Yes the air is full of spirits,
Many does each man inherit.
But at night each one will say:
“What hast thou performed this day?”
Ere my weary eyelids close;
Ere I calmly seek repose,
Comes an echo far away:
“What hast thou performed this day?”