While Ebbing Nature Grieves

While ebbing nature grieves, My God, my portion be, Until the hour which gives My spirit unto Thee. When flesh and life decline, Stretch out Thy hand and take My nature into Thine, Till I in Thee awake.

The morning sun will glow, The evening light will die; So change the lights below, They never change on high. Friend turns from friend his face, One mourns upon the shore; But from Thy holy place Thy sons go our no more.

The cloud broods o’er us still; We hope, yet fear to fall; We long toward yonder hill Whence comes the help of all: It glimmers through the night The dead have overpast To Thee the dawning Light; O fail us not at last.