Draw near, Almighty Father,

Ne'er seen by mortal eye;

Come, O Thou Word eternal,

O Spirit blest, be nigh.

One light of threefold Godhead,

One power that all transcends;

God is of God begotten,

And God from both descends.

The hour of rest approaches,

The toils of day are past,

And o'er our tired bodies

Sleep's gentle charm is cast.

The mind, by cares tormented

Amid life's storm and stress,

Drinks deep the wondrous potion

That brings forgetfulness.

O'er weary, toil-worn mortals

The spells of Lethe steal;

Sad hearts lose all their sorrow,

Nor pain nor anguish feel.

For to His frail creation

God gave this law to keep,

That labour should be lightened

By soft and healing sleep.

But while sweet languor wanders

Through all the pulsing veins,

And, wrapt in dewy slumber,

The heart at rest remains,

The soul, in wakeful vigour,

Aloft in freedom flies,

And sees in many a semblance

The hidden mysteries.

For, freed from care, the spirit

That came from out the sky,

Born of the stainless aether,

Can never idle lie.

A thousand changing phantoms

She fashions through the night,

And 'midst a world of fancy

Pursues her rapid flight.

But divers are the visions

That night to dreamers shows;

Rare gleams of straying splendour

The future may disclose;

More oft the truth is darkened,

And lying fantasy

Deceives the affrighted sleeper

With cunning treachery.

To him whose life is holy

The things that are concealed

Lie open to his spirit

In radiant light revealed;

But he whose heart is blackened,

With many a sin imbued,

Sees phantoms grim and ghastly

That beckon and delude.

So in the Egyptian dungeon

The patriarch of old

Unto the king's two servants

Their fateful visions told:

And one is brought from prison

The monarch's wine to pour,

One, on the gibbet hanging,

Foul birds of prey devour,

He warned the king, distracted

By riddles of the night,

To hoard the plenteous harvests

Against the years of blight.

Soon, lord of half a kingdom,

A mighty potentate,

He shares the royal sceptre

And dwells in princely state.

But ah! how deep the secrets

The holy sleeper sees

To whom Christ shows His highest,

Most sacred mysteries.

For God's most faithful servant

The clouds were rolled away,

And John beheld the wonders

That sealed from mortals lay.

The Lamb of God, encrimsoned

With sacrificial stains,

Alone the Book can open

That destiny contains.

By His strong hand is wielded

A keen, two-edgèd brand

That, flashing like the lightning,

Smites swift on either hand.

Before His bar of judgment

Both soul and body lie;

He whom that dread sword smiteth

The second death shall die.

Yet mercy tempers justice,

And few the Avenger sends

(Whose guilt is past all pardon)

To death that never ends.

To Him the Father yieldeth

The judgment-seat of Heaven;

To Him a Name excelling

All other names is given.

For by His strength transcendent

Shall Antichrist be slain,

And from that raging monster

Fair trophies shall He gain:

That all-devouring Dragon,

With blood of martyrs red,

On whose abhorrèd power

John's solemn curse is laid.

And thus the proud usurper

Of His high name is cast

By Him, the true Christ, vanquished

To deepest hell at last.

Upon the saint heroic

Such wondrous slumber falls

That, in the spirit roaming,

He treads heaven's highest halls.

We may not, in our weakness,

To dreams like these aspire,

Whose souls are steeped in error

And evil things desire.

Enough, if weary bodies

In peaceful sleep may rest;

Enough, if no dark powers

Our slumbering souls molest.

Christian! the font remember,

The sacramental vow,

The holy water sprinkled,

The oil that marked thy brow!

When at sleep's call thou seekest

To rest in slumber chaste,

Let first the sacred emblem

On breast and brow be traced.

The Cross dispels all darkness,

All sin before it flies,

And by that sign protected

The mind all fear defies.

Avaunt! ye fleeting phantoms

That mock our midnight hours;

Avaunt! thou great Deceiver

With all thy guileful powers.

Thou Serpent, old and crafty,

Who by a thousand arts

And manifold temptations

Dost vex our sleeping hearts,

Vanish! for Christ is with us;

Away! 'tis Christ the Lord:

The sign thou must acknowledge

Condemns thy hellish horde.

And, though the weary body

Relaxed in sleep may be,

Our hearts, Lord, e'en in slumber,

Shall meditate on Thee.