Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/46
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
28
WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT?
Now 'tis our privilege to find
A short release from all our care;
To leave the world's pursuits behind,
And breathe a more celestial air.
A short release from all our care;
To leave the world's pursuits behind,
And breathe a more celestial air.
O Lord, those earthly thoughts destroy,
Which cling too fondly to our breast;
Through grace prepare us to enjoy
The coming hours of hallowed rest.
Which cling too fondly to our breast;
Through grace prepare us to enjoy
The coming hours of hallowed rest.
And when Thy word shall set us free
From every burden that we bear,
Oh! may we rise to rest with Thee,
And hail a brighter Sabbath there.
From every burden that we bear,
Oh! may we rise to rest with Thee,
And hail a brighter Sabbath there.
Saturday Evening.
Sweet is the last, the parting ray,
That ushers placid evening in,
When with the still, expiring day,
The Sabbath's peaceful hours begin;
How grateful to the anxious breast,
The sacred hours of holy rest!
That ushers placid evening in,
When with the still, expiring day,
The Sabbath's peaceful hours begin;
How grateful to the anxious breast,
The sacred hours of holy rest!
Hushed is the tumult of the day,
And worldly cares and business cease,
While soft the vesper breezes play,
To hymn the glad return of peace;
Delightful season, kindly given,
To turn the wandering thoughts to heaven.
And worldly cares and business cease,
While soft the vesper breezes play,
To hymn the glad return of peace;
Delightful season, kindly given,
To turn the wandering thoughts to heaven.
Oft as this peaceful hour shall come,
Lord, raise my thoughts from earthly things,
And bear them to my heavenly home,
On faith and hope's celestial wings,—
Till the last gleam of life decay,
In one eternal Sabbath-day!
Lord, raise my thoughts from earthly things,
And bear them to my heavenly home,
On faith and hope's celestial wings,—
Till the last gleam of life decay,
In one eternal Sabbath-day!
Watchman, What of the Night?
Say, watchman, what of the night?
Do the dews of the morning fall?
Have the orient skies a border of light,
Like the fringe of a funeral pall?
Do the dews of the morning fall?
Have the orient skies a border of light,
Like the fringe of a funeral pall?