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,

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;

And 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.