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(Von Canitz)
COME, my soul, thou must be waking— | |
| Now is breaking | |
| O’er the earth another day: | |
| Come, to Him who made this splendour, | |
| See thou render | 5 |
| All thy feeble strength can pay. | |
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| From the stars thy course be learning; | |
| Dimly burning | |
| ’Neath the sun their light grows pale; | |
| So let all that sense delighted, | 10 |
| While benighted, | |
| From God’s presence fade and fail. | |
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| Lo! how all of breath partaking, | |
| Gladly waking, | |
| Hail the sun’s enlivening light! | 15 |
| Plants, whose life mere sap doth nourish, | |
| Rise and flourish | |
| When he breaks the shades of night. | |
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| Thou too hail the light returning; | |
| Ready burning | 20 |
| Be the incense of thy powers;— | |
| For the night is safely ended; | |
| God hath tended | |
| With His care thy helpless hours. | |
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| Pray that He may prosper ever | 25 |
| Each endeavour, | |
| When thine aim is good and true; | |
| But that He may ever thwart thee, | |
| And convert thee, | |
| When thou evil wouldst pursue. | 30 |
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| Think that He thy ways beholdeth— | |
| He unfoldeth | |
| Every fault that lurks within; | |
| Every stain of shame gloss’d over | |
| Can discover, | 35 |
| And discern each deed of sin. | |
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| Fetter’d to the fleeting hours | |
| All our powers | |
| Vain and brief, are borne away: | |
| Time, my soul, thy ship is steering, | 40 |
| Onward veering, | |
| To the gulf of death a prey. | |
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| May’st thou then on life’s last morrow, | |
| Free from sorrow, | |
| Pass away in slumber sweet: | 45 |
| And, releas’d from death’s dark sadness, | |
| Rise in gladness, | |
| That far brighter sun to greet. | |
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| Only God’s free gifts abuse not, | |
| His light refuse not, | 50 |
| But still His Spirit’s voice obey; | |
| Soon shall joy thy brow be wreathing, | |
| Splendour breathing | |
| Fairer than the fairest day. | |
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| If aught of care this morn oppress thee, | 55 |
| To Him address thee, | |
| Who, like the sun, is good to all: | |
| He gilds the mountain tops, the while | |
| His gracious smile | |
| Will on the humblest valley fall. | 60 |
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| Round the gifts His bounty showers, | |
| Walls and towers | |
| Girt with flames thy God shall rear: | |
| Angel legions to defend thee | |
| Shall attend thee, | 65 |
| Hosts whom Satan’s self shall fear. | |
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