When the Great Sun Sinks to His Rest

When the great sun sinks to his rest, His golden glories thrilling me, And voiceless longings stir my breast, Then teach me, Lord, to worship Thee.

And when the stars—the daylight fled— In serried, shining ranks I see, Filling the splendid vault o’erhead, Then teach me, Lord, to worship Thee.

Or if in solemn forest shades The calm of nature steals o’er me, And silence all my soul pervades, Then teach me, Lord, to worship Thee.

Not in the sacred shrines alone, Which chime their summons unto me, Would I look upward to Thy throne, But everywhere would worship Thee.