Thou Whose nature cannot sleep,
On my temples sentry keep!
Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes,
Whose eyes are open while mine close;
Let no dreams my head infest,
But such as Jacob's temples blest.
While I do rest, my soul advance;
Make me to sleep a holy trance,
That I may, my rest being wrought,
Awake into some holy thought;
And with as active vigour run
My course as doth the nimble sun.
Sleep is a death; Oh! make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die
And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.
Howe'er I rest, great GOD, let me
Awake again at last with Thee.
And thus assured, behold I lie
Securely, or to wake or die.