1 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. 2 The toils of the day are now brought to their end, And night is preparing her balm for our eyes; 3 We beseech of Thee now, when dim night over all 4 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! 5 From all stain of crime let our bosoms be free, |