Dear , fainting pilgrim on Life's weary road,
Lone voyager on Life's stormy, restless sea,
Faint not: though dark the lowering clouds may spread,
At evening time it shall be light for thee.

Thus He who loves thy soul trod weary ways,
Thus floated lonely on a starless sea;
Yet His the promise,—be to Him the praise!—
“At evening time it shall be light for thee.”

Now clouds and darkness are His children's lot;
But soon a blissful dawn for them shall be,—
Glory beyond the stretch of mortal thought,
Visions of beauty mortals may not see.

Hope on! unwavering, press thou through the gloom!
The Cross must be thy pillar-cloud by day,
Thy blazing guard by night, till, nearing home,
At evening time it shall be light for thee.

Faint not. The Voice which spake the word of yore,
And was obeyed, o'er surging Galilee,
Speaks to thy soul in every stormy hour,
“At evening time it shall be light for thee.”

Dear voices hushed in Death's unpitying sleep,
Thou mayest not hear this side the narrow sea:
They echo on that shore where none may weep;
There shalt thou greet them when 'tis light for thee.

There shalt thou see the Crucified and Crowned,
Thy chosen Master here, whose smile shall be
A full assurance that thine heart hath found
At evening time 'twas surely light for thee.