Let the songbird be silent; let the breeze die away,
Let the lamb in the meadow and the child cease its play,
Let each stars in the heavens fade into the deep,
For beyond their great number are the tears that we weep
Lay down your timbrel, your harp and your lyre
For there is no music in this midnight hour,
Take away all your lilies; let the feasting be done,
Let your smiles turn to sorrow as our tears flow as one
For there is no comfort in this hour of grief,
In our endless weeping there is no relief,
Blow out all your candles for they won’t light the way
As another lost soul will meet Jesus today
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