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II

8,8,8,8

The sun has reached his western goal,

And night-winds hush the world to rest;

Be still, and worship God, my soul,

Who through the day thy life hath blest.

To God thy Maker thanks accord,

For life, and hope, and every good;

And all the comfort of His Word

Incarnate, for the spirit's food.

Ah, night is dark when clouds of guilt

The shrinking soul with fears distress;

Call on the Christ Whose blood was spilt,

And all thy guiltiness confess.

Then let me rest in calm repose,--

Secure in Him my rest is sweet;

The fears of night no dread impose,

If I have worshipped at His feet.

O Christ, Who art my Light, I pray,

Keep Thou my soul till morning shine;

Then, brighter than the orb of day,

Illume my path with light divine.

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