arr. from Franz Joseph Haydn, 1791
Peter C. Lutkin, 1895
German, F. R. L. Canitz (1654-1699);
Tr. Henry J. Buckoll, 1838
Come, my soul, thou must be waking.
Now is breaking
O'er the earth another day:
Come, to him who made this splendor,
See thou render
All thy feeble strength can pay.
Gladly hail the sun returning,
Be the incense of thy powers;
For the night is safely ended,
God hath tended
With his care thy helpless hours.
Pray that he may prosper ever
When thine aim is good and true;
And that he may ever thwart thee,
And convert thee,
When thou evil wouldst pursue.
Think that he thy ways beholdeth;
Every fault that lurks within;
He the hidden shame glossed over
And discern each deed of sin.
Mayest thou on life's last morrow,
Free from sorrow,
Pass away in slumber sweet;
And, released from death's dark sadness,
Rise in gladness
That far brighter Sun to greet.
Only God's free gifts abuse not,
Light refuse not,
But his Spirit's voice obey;
Thou with him shalt dwell, beholding
All things in unclouded day.