Not a single thing on the earth
Can compare to the evening light,
Showing us, in the dark, our worth,
Which is clouded within the night.
It tells us to rest in our fight,
And relax in the world wide shade.
It tells us there’s an end in sight
To the slash of each silver blade.
It tells us our heads should be layed
And there’ll be peace in the final hour.
It tells us there’s fairness in each trade
And beauty in each flower.
So we go to rest every time
Knowing our life is truly sublime

I can't find anything wrong with it, but I would split the lines, especially:

