Hark! the bells from the ivy'd tow'r,
Sweetly chiming on the air,
Toll the peaceful, blissful hour,
The solemn hour of ev'ning pray'r.
Hush! the vesper chime is o'er,
And a blind man stands within the door;
Upon a maiden's hoodless head
Gently his feeble hands are laid:
"Thou shalt place me, child, where the sun may stream
Across these shadow'd eyes of mine;
'Neath its blessed light I then may dream
A sight denied to eyes of thine,
While ascends  to heav'n the pray'r divine:"
'Eternal rest, o! grant us,
And light, light everlasting
Give us, Lord, for evermore!'

Lo! the dark'ning shades are nigh,
The glorious sun is fast declining,
Descending from his throne on high;
On his purple robes reclining,
The golden rays die one by one.
O'er the kneeling crowd the shadows creep;
The light from the old man's face hath gone
While the way-worn child is wrapt in sleep.
The organ peal'd thro' the sounding aisle.
"Father!" the startled sleeper cried,
But he answer'd not by word nor smile,
For heav'n had open'd to his eyes
The eternal light of paradise,
And the echoed pray'r alone replied: 
'Eternal rest, o! grant us,
And light, light everlasting
Give us, Lord, for evermore!'