The day is past and the toilers cease;
At the close of day.
The land grows dim 'mid the shadows grey,
And hearts are glad, for the dark brings peace
Of the setting sun.
Each weary toiler, with lingering pace,
As he homeward turns, with the long day done,
Looks out to the west, with the light on his face
At the fall of night.
Yet some see not (with their sin-dimmed eyes)
The promise of rest in the fading light;
But the clouds loom dark in the angry skies