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Evening Hymn.

Hide me under the Shadow of Thy Wings.

Ps. xvii. 8.

Paul Gerhard. 1606-1676.

Frances E. Cox. Tr. 1864

Now hushed are woods and waters,

At rest toil’s sons and daughters,

The world aslumber lies;

But thou, my Soul, awake thee,

To prayer and song betake thee,

And bid their grateful incense rise.

Sun, whither hast thou vanished?

The night, day’s foe, has banished

At length each lingering beam;

But Jesus now draws nearer,

A better Sun and dearer

Sheds through my heart a warmer gleam.

The day has fled defeated—

In heaven’s deep azure seated,

Stars shine, a golden band;

I too, on that bright morrow,

Called from this vale of sorrow,

Like them, in heaven with God shall stand.

To rest my body hasteth,

Aside its garments casteth,

Types of our mortal state;

When I put off this mortal,

At death’s mysterious portal,

Christ’s pure white Robes my soul await.

As day’s turmoil is closing,

Head, hands, and feet reposing,

Welcome the set of sun;

Cheer up, my heart, with gladness!

Thou, free from sin and sadness,

Wilt joy when life’s long task is done.

Tired limbs, how toil oppressed you!

Ye long in bed to rest you,

And thou, my weary head!

A little longer tarry,

Till this worn frame they carry,

To rest in earth’s green narrow bed.

Sleep o’er mine eyes is creeping—

Say, while unconscious sleeping,

Where bide the Soul and Sense?

O Israel’s Eye and Saviour,

Look down with Grace and Favour,

And be this night my sure Defence.

Lord, as a hen safe gathers

Her brood beneath her feathers,

Spread Thou Thy sheltering Wing;

This couch if Satan cumber,

“My child, still safely slumber,”

Let guardian Angels round me sing.

So, safe ’neath God’s protection,

Sleep ye whom fond Affection

Within my heart holds dear;

May His bright Guards attend you,

And Golden Shields defend you,

If aught of ill approach you near!

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