1 O see! how fair, how sweet, how clear
our little church it glows!
How bright on it the red and gold
the western sunbeam throws.
How sweet, how still the silence here!
No church is half so dear.

2 O see! the gold and glow of eve
upon the window streams,
And like a bride with crown of flowers
it standeth in the beams.
Ah! see how it doth gleam and glow,
As doth the peach-tree blow!

3 And when resounds and thrills around
the organ's silver swell,
How then the tones o'erwhelm the heart
it scarce can know or tell;
And mute we hear the rising peal
Nor tell the things we feel.

4 But see! the sun doth sink to rest,
and dark the valley grows;
The last soft ray of gold,
the sky upon the tower throws.
How sweet, how still the silence here!
No church is half so dear.