The leaves around me falling Are preaching of decay; The hollow winds are calling, Come, pilgrim, come away! The day, in night declining, Says, I must too decline: The year its life resigning— Its lot foreshadows mine. The light my path surrounding, The loves to which I cling, The hopes within me bounding, The joys that round me wing— All, all, like stars at even, Just gleam, and shoot away; Pass on before to Heaven, And chide at my delay. The friends gone there before me Are calling me from high, And joyous angels o’er me Tempt sweetly to the sky. Why wait, they say, and wither Mid scenes of death and sin? O rise to glory hither, And find true life begin! I hear the invitation, And fain would rise and come— A sinner, to salvation; An exile, to his home: But while I here must linger, Thus, thus, let all I see Point on, with faithful finger, To Heav’n, O Lord, and Thee.