The silent night is coming on,
The day is gone and past;
The willows waving to and fro
Their mournful shadows cast.
I'm thinking o'er the happy years
We wandered side by side,
And Oh, my heart is filled with tears,
I've lost my darling bride.
Softly sighs the evening breeze,
And soothes my bosom sore,
While angel voices seem to sing:
"Not lost, but gone before."

I think of her whose gentle voice
My drooping spirit cheered;
In fancy see her eyes grow bright,
When prosp'rous days appeared.
And as--like vessels that from storms
To quiet havens glide--
We neared the haven of our hopes,
I lost my darling bride.
Softly sighs the evening breeze,
And soothes my bosom sore,
While angel voices seem to sing:
"Not lost, but gone before."