Now more than half the day is done,
So let us loiter down the hill,
With faces towards the setting sun,
And hearts contented to be still.

The love that made the morn so bright
Is with us now that daylight dies,
And shall be with us when the night
Has drawn her curtain o'er the skies.

So very sweet the past hath been,
We cannot bear to let it go;
And yet from all that we have seen,
Life's flowers get richer as they grow.

A deeper pleasure comes with years
In all the simple things of life,
There is less bitterness in tears,
Less tumult in the heart of strife.

The daily scenes in which we dwell
Become infused with tenderer grace,
And powers of consolation dwell
In every change on Nature's face.

The coming of the winter snow,
The blossoms of the early spring,
Can set the spirit all aglow,
And make the heart rejoice and sing.

And when against the window-pane
The mist has made a curtain dim,
The beating of the summer rain
Is sweet and solemn as a hymn.

For then from out the chambered past
The spirit faces come and go,
And overhead the clouded vast
Is noisy with the winds that blow.

Thus God comes knocking at the door,
And makes our hearts within us burn,
For asking from us more and more,
He gives more richly in return.

The golden sun now sets apace,
And stars look downward from the deep,
There cometh in a little space,
The folding of the hands to sleep.