Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee:
Where’er we turn, Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.
2 When day, with farewell beam, delays
Among the opening clouds of even,
And we can almost think we gaze
Through golden vistas into heaven,
Those hues that make the sun’s decline
So soft, so radiant, Lord, are Thine.