Come, my soul, thou must be waking;
Now is breaking over the earth another day;
Come to Him Who made this splendor;
See thou render all thy feeble powers can pay. Thou, too, hail the light returning
Ready burning 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
Each endeavor when thine aim is good and true;
But that He may ever thwart thee,
And convert thee, when thou evil wouldst pursue. Think that He thy ways beholdeth;
He unfoldeth every fault that lurks within;
He the hidden shame glossed over
Can discover, 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
Light enfolding all things in unclouded day. |
