Sleep, that may me more vig'rous make
To serve my God when I awake!
When in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,
No powers of darkness me molest !
Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive !
I am but half my time alive:
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved
To lie so long of Thee bereaved.
But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns,
Let it not hold me long in chains!
And now and then let loose my heart,
Till it a hallelujah dart !
The faster sleep the senses binds,
The more unfetter'd are our minds;
Oh, may my soul, from matter free,
Thy loveliness unclouded see!
Oh, when shall I, in endless day,
For ever chase dark sleep away,
And hymns with the supernal choir
Incessant sing, and never tire?
Oh, may my Guardian, while I sleep,
Close to my bed his vigils keep;
His love angelical instil;
Stop all the avenues of ill :
May he celestial joy rehearse,
And thought to thought with me converse;
Or in my stead, all the night long,
Sing to my God a grateful song!
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him, all creatures here below! Praise Him above, ye heavenly host!
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
An Evening Hymn.
REV. JOHN KEBLE.
UN of my soul, Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near:
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes.
When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought how sweet to rest
For ever on my Saviour's breast.
Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live;
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.
If some poor wandering child of Thine
Have spurn'd to-day the voice divine,
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin:
Let him no more lie down in sin.
Watch by the sick: enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store;
Be every mourner's sleep to-night,
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light.
Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take ;
Till in the ocean of Thy love
We lose ourselves in Heaven above.
OW sweet the fall of eve,
When, in the glowing West,
The sun hath sunk to rest,
Yet shining footprints on the air doth leave;
While through the deep'ning twilight, soft and low
The fragrant evening breezes come and go!
How beautiful, when light
Hath fled, and leaf and stream
Rest in a quiet dream
Within the curtaining shadows of the night;
While troops of stars look down with dewy rays
And flowers droop their eyes beneath their gaze.
How silent is the air!
Who would not at such a shrine
To holier thoughts incline?
The ever-tranquil night was made for prayer,
On the hush'd earth, from the o'erarching sky,
Doth not a solemn benediction lie?
And when the hours of night
Have slowly roll'd away,
And the victorious day
Athwart the kindling air speeds arrowy light,
How gloriously, as in a second birth,
Awake to radiant life the heavens and earth.
So, when Life's eve shall fall,
Within my peaceful breast
Oh! may Thy presence rest
Soft as the hush of night, Father of All!
So, from the sleep of death, with quickening ray,
Wake me to radiant life, Thou God of day!
For the Morning of the Sabbath.
JAMES MONTGOMERY.
O Thy temple I repair;
Lord, I love to worship there,
When, within the veil, I meet
Christ before the mercy-seat.
Thou, through Him, art reconciled;
I, through Him, became Thy child ;
Abba, Father! give me grace
In Thy courts to seek Thy face!
While Thy glorious praise is sung,
Touch my lips, unloose my tongue,
That my joyful soul may bless
Thee, the Lord my Righteousness !
While the prayers of saints ascend,
God of love! to mine attend!
Hear me, for Thy Spirit pleads;
Hear, for Jesus intercedes!
While I hearken to Thy law,
Fill my soul with humble awe;
Till Thy Gospel bring to me
Life and immortality:
While Thy ministers proclaim
Peace and pardon in Thy Name,
Through their voice, by faith, may I
Hear Thee speaking from the sky!
From Thy house when I return,
May my heart within me burn;
And at evening let me say,
I have walk'd with God to-day!
DAY most calm, most bright!
The fruit of this, the next world's bud;
Th' indorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a Friend, and with His blood:
The couch of time; care's balm and bay;
The week were dark, but for thy light;
Thy torch doth show the way.
Sundays the pillars are
On which Heaven's palace arched lies:
The other days fill up the spare
And hollow room with vanities,
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