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John Brownlie

8,7,8,7

Lord, upon our night descending,

Bid the light with gladness shine;

Let its rays, through darkness wending,

Round our fears in beauty twine.

Thou art Light, and where Thou dwellest,

Like a traveller, gloom departs;

Come, who threatening clouds dispellest,

And abide within our hearts.

Ah, the visions Thou impartest,

With the morn, and with the noon;

With what glory Thou attirest

Eve, that falleth late or soon.

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Flood our lives with varied beauty,

Morn, and noon, and coming night;

Light us in the path of duty,

And at eve let there be light.

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