Dry thine eyes, love; cease thy weeping,

For thy boy will soon be sleeping

Safe within the angels’ keeping—

Dry thine eyes.

Hold my hand; the tide is flowing,

Down the stream my boat is going,

On the banks the kine are lowing,

In the skies.

See, my love, the shadows creeping,

Round my bed while I am sleeping,

List! I hear a sound of weeping!

Now it dies.

Raise me up, the day is breaking;

Streaks of gray proclaim its waking;

Sleep my weary eyes forsaking,

In the light.

Raise me up that I may, nearer,

Watch the shades becoming clearer;

Ebbing life seems growing dearer.

Fails again; the sombre fretting

Changes now to golden netting.

See! the blood-red sun is setting!

Love, good-night.

Unto God my soul is winging;

I can hear the angels singing;

Joy bells overhead are ringing!

Dry thine eyes.