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H. F. Lyte

Again, O LORD, I ope my eyes

Thy glorious light to see,

And share the gifts so largely lent

To thankless man by Thee.

And why has GOD o'er me this night

The watch so kindly kept?

And why have I so safely waked,

And why so sweetly slept?

And wherefore do I live and breathe?

And wherefore have I still

The mind to know, the sense to choose,

The strength to do Thy will?

Is it, to waste another day

In folly, sin, and shame?

To give to these my heart and hand,

And spurn my Maker's claim?

Is it, for honour, wealth, or power

My heavenly hopes to sell?

Is it, to grasp at pleasure's flower

Upon the brink of hell?


Is it, to grow unto the world,

As glides the world from me;

Be one day nearer to the grave,

And further, LORD, from Thee?

No! thus too many days I've spent!

To Thee, then, this be given:

Teach what I owe to Man below,

And to Thyself in heaven.

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