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tr., John Brownlie



The sun has reached his western goal,

And night winds hush the world to rest;

Be still, and worship God, my soul,

Who through the day thy life hath blest.


To God thy Maker, thanks accord,

For life, and hope, and every good,

And all the comfort of the Word

Incarnate, for the spirit's food.


Ah! night is dark when clouds of guilt

The shrinking soul with fears distress,—

Call on the Christ Whose blood was spilt,

And all thy guiltiness confess.


Then let me rest in calm repose,—

Secure in Him, my rest is sweet;

The fears of night no dread impose,

If I have worshipped at His feet.


O Christ, Who art my Light, I pray,

Keep Thou my soul till morning shine;

Then, brighter than the orb of day,

Illume my path with light divine.

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