The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close

Author: Orson F. Whitney
Composer: Edward P. Kimball

Languages (7)

This song text has been indexed at SingPraises.net in the following languages:

  • Bulgarian: Ден мразовит, вървящ към края свой
  • English: The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close
  • English Braille: ⠠⠮ ⠠⠺⠔⠞⠗⠽ ⠠⠙⠁⠽⠂ ⠠⠙⠑⠎⠉⠢⠙⠔⠛ ⠞⠕ ⠠⠊⠞⠎ ⠠⠉⠇⠕⠎⠑
  • Fijian: Gauna Batabata Sa Mai Cava
  • Norwegian: Nu dagen heller
  • Portuguese: Sereno Finda o Dia
  • Swedish: Vid dagens slut naturen går till ro
  • All Languages →

Statistics

Most common tunes for “The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close”

This chart shows the tunes that are paired with this text most frequently, in hymnbooks and other collections published by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If the text appears with the same tune in multiple editions or translations of the same hymnbook, it is only counted once.


Appearances of “The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close” over time

This timeline shows which tunes have been used with this text over time, in hymnbooks and other collections published by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Representative lyrics

English (Original Language)

1. The wintry day, descending to its close, Invites all wearied nature to repose, And shades of night are falling dense and fast, Like sable curtains closing o’er the past. Pale through the gloom the newly fallen snow Wraps in a shroud the silent earth below As tho ’twere mercy’s hand had spread the pall, A symbol of forgiveness unto all.

2. I cannot go to rest, but linger still In meditation at my windowsill, While, like the twinkling stars in heaven’s dome, Come one by one sweet memories of home. And wouldst thou ask me where my fancy roves To reproduce the happy scenes it loves, Where hope and memory together dwell And paint the pictured beauties that I tell?

3. Away beyond the prairies of the West, Where exiled Saints in solitude were blest, Where industry the seal of wealth has set Amid the peaceful vales of Deseret, Unheeding still the fiercest blasts that blow, With tops encrusted by eternal snow, The tow’ring peaks that shield the tender sod Stand, types of freedom reared by nature’s God.

4. The wilderness, that naught before would yield, Is now become a fertile, fruitful field. Where roamed at will the fearless Indian band, The templed cities of the Saints now stand. And sweet religion in its purity Invites all men to its security. There is my home, the spot I love so well, Whose worth and beauty pen nor tongue can tell.

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Compare different versions of the lyrics side-by-side: English