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The Book of Praise.
Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done ; That with the world, myself, and Thee. I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed ! To die, that this vile body may Rise glorious at the awful day !
0 may my soul on Thee repose;
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close ; Sleep, that may me more vig'rous make To serve my God when I awake !
When in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with heavenly thoughts supply! Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, No powers of darkness me molest!
Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive !
1 am but half my time alive:
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are griev'd To lie so long of Thee bereav'd.
But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns, Let it not hold me long in chains ! And now and then let loose my hearty Till it an hallelujah dart !
The faster sleep the senses binds, The more unfetter'd are our minds ; O may my soul, from matter free, Thy loveliness unclouded see ! |
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