Pray for the dead at fall of night;
When the sun is fled,
And the world is given to peaceful things,
O, pray for the dead.

I think that thro' the wearing day
They keep afar,
But venture near when night revives
In star on star.

Have ye not seen how the wind falls,
By some strange law,
When night returns, and the wood stands
In solemn awe?

The dead men may be near the while,
Pleading for you
To help them, and your prayers may fall
On them like dew.

We cannot know how for the dead
Our prayers avail;
Yet over them the words may sing
Like a nightingale.

Our prayers may rise on their dim way
As stars, and shed
Rays that do lead to lands of light
The pilgrim dead.