Chorale Book for England

Now that the sun doth shine no more,

And day hath reach'd its close,

They calmly sleep who wept before,

The wearied find repose.

But Thou, my God, no rest dost know

In Thy unslumb'ring might;

Thou hatest darkness as Thy foe,

For Thou Thyself art Light.

Then 'mid the blackness of these hours

Still think on me for good;

Refresh me,--let Thy heavenly powers

Now o'er my slumbers brood,

I know the evil I have done

Doth cry aloud to Thee;

But, ah! the mercy of Thy Son

Hath made amends for me.

And therefore now I close my eyes

And sleep with tranquil breast;

Why waste the time in fears or sighs?

God watches o'er my rest.

Hence, vain and evil thoughts, depart!

Roam not, my soul, abroad,

For now I build within my heart

A temple to my God.

And if this night my last should prove

In this dark land, I pray

Then take me to Thy heaven above,

The home of endless day.