Full Lyrics
Upon the hills the wind is sharp and cold,
The sweet young grasses wither on the wold,
And we, O Lord, have wandered from Thy fold;
But evening brings us home.
We have been wounded by the hunter’s darts,
Our eyes are heavy, and our hearts
Search for Thy coming, when the light departs
At evening bring us home!
The darkness gathers, through the gloom no star
Rises to guide us; we have wander’d far;
Without Thy lamp we know not where we are;
At evening bring us home.
The clouds are round us, and the snowdrifts thicken,
O Thou, dear Shepherd, leave us not to sicken,
In the waste night; our tardy footsteps quicken;
At evening bring us home.
