1 Creator of all! through whose all-seeing might
This ponderous globe to its hour is true,
Thou glad'st us each morn with the vision of light, And at eve on our lids pourest slumber like dew.
2 The toils of the day are now brought to their end, And night is preparing her balm for our eyes;
Our strength, Lord, encourage, our weakness defend; Hear our prayers as they spring, and our hymns as they rise!
3 We beseech of Thee now, when dim night over all
Is enfolding her shroud and resuming her sway,
That Thy grace still may shine, 'mid the glooms that appal, As a star to our eyes, and a lamp to our way.
4 Though our bodies may sleep, let our souls be awake, Keep them free from the deadness that guilt only knows; Be the dream of the night pure as day, for Thy sake, And the calm of Thy paradise on our repose!
5 From all stain of crime let our bosoms be free,
And still rest on our God, unpolluted and clear;
So the tempter shall flee; nor our slumbers endure
One pang of remorse or one shudder of fear.