7 7, 7 8, 8 8. Luke xviii. 35.

1 LORD we sit and cry to thee,
Like the blind beside the way;
Make our darkened souls to see
The glory of thy perfect day:
O Lord! rebuke our sullen night,
And give thyself unto our sight!

2 Lord! we do not ask to gaze
On our dim and earthly sun;
But on light that still shall blaze
When every star its course hath run;
The light that gilds thy blest abode,
The glory of the Lamb of God!