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 opening vistas, into heaven—
Those hues that mark the sun’s decline,
So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine.
3 When night, with wings of starry gloom,
O’ershadows all the earth and skies,