L. M.
Pierpont.
Another day its course hath run,
And still, O God! Thy child is blest;
For Thou hast been by day my sun,
And Thou wilt be by night my rest.
Sweet sleep descends, mine eyes to close;
And now, while all the world is still,
I give my body to repose,
My spirit to my Father’s will.
workSection