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.

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!

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.

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!

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.