Evening

Getting dark early in November. A hymn with Woods in the title.

Now All the Woods Are Sleeping

Text by Paul Gerhardt

Now all the woods are sleeping, Through fields the shadows creeping, And cities sink to rest: Let us as night is falling, on God our maker calling, Give thanks to him who loves us best.

The radiant sun has vanished, Its golden rays are banished, From darkening skies of night, But Christ the sun of gladness, Dispelling all our sadness, Shines down on us in warmest light.

Now all the heavenly splendor, Breaks forth in starlight tender, From myriad worlds un-known, And we, this marvel seeing, Forget our selfish being, For joy of beauty not our own.

Through long our ancient blindness, Has missed God’s loving kindness, And plunged us into strife, One day, when life is over, Shall death’s fair night uncover, The fields of everlasting life.

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