INTERVAL of grateful shade,
Welcome to my weary head!
Welcome slumbers to mine eyes,
Tired with glaring vanities!
My great Master still allows
Needful periods of repose:
By my Heavenly Father blest,
Thus I give my powers to rest;
Heavenly Father, gracious name!
Night and day his love the same;
Far be each suspicious thought,
Every anxious care forgot;
Thou, my ever-bounteous God,
Crownest my days with various good:
Thy kind eye, that cannot sleep
These defenceless hours shall keep;
Blest vicissitude to me!
Day and night I'm still with thee.

What though downy slumbers flee,
Strangers to my couch and me?
Sleepless well I know to rest,
Lodged within my Father's breast.
While the empress of the night
Scatters mild her silver light;
While the vivid planets stray
Various through their mystic way;
While the stars unnumbered roll
Round the ever-constant pole;
Far above these spangled skies,
All my soul to God shall rise;
Midst the silence of the night
Mingling with those angels bright,
Whose harmonious voices raise
Ceaseless love and ceaseless praise:
Through the throng his gentle ear
Shall my tuneless accents hear:
From on high doth he impart
Secret comfort to my heart.
He in these serenest hours
Guides my intellectual powers,
And his spirit doth diffuse,
Sweeter far than midnight dews;
Lifting all my thoughts above,
On the wings of faith and love.
Blest alternative to me,

Thus to sleep, or wake, with thee!

What if death my sleep invade?
Should I be of death afraid?
Whilst encircled by thine arm,
Death may strike, but cannot harm.
What if beams of opening day
Shine around my breathless clay?
Brighter visions from on high
Shall regale my mental eye;
Tender friends awhile may mourn
Me from their embraces torn;
Dearer, better friends I have
In the realms beyond the grave.
See the guardian angels nigh
Wait to waft my soul on high!
See the golden gates displayed!
See the crown to grace my head!
See a flood of sacred light,
Which no more shall yield to night.
Transitory world, farewell!
Jesus calls, with him to dwell.
With thy heavenly presence blest,
Death is life, and labor rest.
Welcome sleep or death to me,
Still secure, for still with thee.

1755.

PHILIP Doddridge.

AN EVENING HYMN.

ALL praise to thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, oh, keep me, King of kings,
Beneath thy own almighty wings.

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.

Oh, may my soul on thee repose,
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close;
Sleep that may me more vigorous 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,
I am but half my time alive;

Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved
To lie so long of thee bereaved.

But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns,
Let it not hold me long in chains;
And now and then let loose my heart,
Till it an hallelujah dart.

The faster sleep the senses binds,
The more unfettered are our minds;
Oh, may my soul, from matter free,
Thy loveliness unclouded see!

Oh, when shall I in endless day
Forever chase dark sleep away;
And hymns with the supernal choir
Incessant sing and never tire?

Oh, may my Guardian, while I sleep,
Close to my bed his vigils keep;
His love angelical instil;
Stop all the avenues of ill.

May he celestial joy rehearse,

And thought to thought with me converse,
Or, in my stead, all the night long
Sing to my God a grateful song.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

1700.

EVENING.

THOMAS KEN.

A portion of this poem, beginning with the third stanza, has passed into many hymn-books, and is deservedly very popular.

'T is gone, that bright and orbed blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.

In darkness and in weariness

The traveller on his way must press;
No gleam to watch on tree or tower,
Whiling away the lonesome hour.

Sun of my soul, thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if thou be near;
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide thee from thy servant's eyes.

When round thy wondrous works below
My searching, rapturous glance I throw,
Tracing out wisdom, power, and love,
In earth or sky, in stream or grove ;-

Or by the light thy words disclose
Watch Time's full river as it flows,
Scanning thy gracious providence,
Where not too deep for mortal sense:

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,
And all the flowers of life unfold,
Let not my heart within me burn,
Except in all I thee discern.

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
Forever on my Saviour's breast.

Abide with me from morn till eve,.
For without thee I cannot live:
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without thee I dare not die.

Thou Framer of the light and dark,
Steer through the tempest thine own ark :
Amid the howling wintry sea
We are in port if we have thee.

The rulers of this Christian land,
'Twixt thee and us ordained to stand,
Guide thou their course, O Lord, aright;
Let all do all as in thy sight.

Oh, by thine own sad burthen, borne
So meekly up the hill of scorn,
Teach thou thy priests their daily cross
To bear as thine, nor count it loss!

If some poor wandering child of thine
Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine,
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin,
Let him no more lie down in sin.

Though the night be dark and dreary,

Darkness cannot hide from thee;
Thou art he who, never weary,
Watchest where thy people be.

Should swift death this night o'ertake us,
And our couch become our tomb,
May the morn in heaven awake us,
Clad in light and deathless bloom.
JAMES EDMESTON.

1820.

EVENING HYMN.

Τὴν ἡμέραν διελθών.

THE day is past and over :

All thanks, O Lord, to thee! I pray thee now, that sinless

The hours of dark may be.

O Jesu, keep me in thy sight,

And save me through the coming night!

The joys of day are over:

I lift my heart to thee;

And ask thee, that offenceless
The hours of dark may be.

O Jesu, make their darkness light,

And save me through the coming night!

The toils of day are over:

I raise the hymn to thee; And ask that free from peril

The hours of dark may be. O Jesu, keep me in thy sight,

And guard me through the coming night!

Lighten mine eyes, O Saviour,

Or sleep in death shall I ; And he, my wakeful tempter,

Triumphantly shall cry:

"He could not make their darkness light,

Nor guard them through the hours of night!"

Be thou my soul's preserver,

O God, for thou dost know How many are the perils

Through which I have to go: Lover of men, oh, hear my call,

And guard and save me from them all! Attributed to ANATOLIUS. Translated by JOHN MASON NEALE, 1862.

EVENING SONG OF THE WEARY.

FATHER of heaven and earth!
I bless thee for the night,

The soft, still night!

The holy pause of care and mirth, Of sound and light!

HYMN FOR BEDTIME. ROUND about my bed abide, Jesu Lord, at eventide;

Watch, dear Jesu, watch:
Round about my pillow keep
Watch and vigil while I sleep;
Watch, dear Jesu, watch;
Jesu, watch.

Ward away the hosts of hell,
Thou who keepest Israel;

Watch, dear Jesu, watch:
When thou watchest over me,
Let my spirit watch with thee;
Watch, dear Jesu, watch;
Jesu, watch.

Let thy holy angel spread
Dewy wings about my bed:

Watch, dear Jesu, watch:
Let him shed from his pure breast
Dreams of heaven's eternal rest :
Watch, dear Jesu, watch;
Jesu, watch.

Underneath thy cross's sign
I myself to thee resign:

Watch, dear Jesu, watch:
Hence let Satan flee away!
Only, Jesu, with me stay:
Watch, dear Jesu, watch;
Jesu, watch.

Friends and kinsmen everywhere,-
All commend I to thy care;
Watch, dear Jesu, watch:
Let them sleep secure from harm
Underneath thy sheltering arm :
Watch, dear Jesu, watch;

Jesu, watch.

1867.

O'er the sleepers who have gone To their rest thy breast upon,

Watch, dear Jesu, watch:

Sleep they well, till time shall cease:
May their spirits rest in peace.
Watch, dear Jesu, watch;
Jesu, watch.

Till, the night of trouble o'er,
On the everlasting shore
We all awake, to sleep no more,
Watch, dear Jesu, we implore:
Watch, dear Jesu, watch;
Jesu, watch.

GERARD MOULTRIE.

AN EVENING HYMN.

JOSEPH BEAUMONT, a descendant of the ancient family of Leicestershire to which the dramatist, Francis Beaumont, belonged, was born in 1615, and died in 1699. He was at one time Master of Peterhouse, Cambridge, and was afterwards Professor of Divinity there. His chief poetical composition was "Psyche, or Love's Mystery," a religious work nearly four times the length of "Paradise Lost," written "for the avoiding of mere idlenesse." The following is from his "Cathemerina," written in 1652 It has not been reprinted except by the Rev. F. M. Bird, in the New York Independent, in 1875.

NEVER yet could careless sleep
On Love's watchful eyelid creep;
Never yet could gloomy night
Damp his eye's immortal light:
Love is his own ray, and sees
Whatsoe'er himself doth please:
Love his piercing look can dart
Through the shades of my dark heart,
And read plainer far than I
All the spots which there do lye.
Pardon then what thou dost see,
Mighty Love, in wretched me:
Let the sweet wrath of thy ray
Chide my sinful night to day;
To the blessed day of grace,
Whose dear East smiled in thy face,
So no powers of darkness shall

1652.

In this night my soul appall;

So shall I the sounder sleep,

'Cause my heart awake I keep, Meekly waiting upon thee, Whilst thou deign'st to watch for me.

NIGHT.

JOSEPH BEAUmont.

Dost thou come again, calm, holy mother
Of bright stars and heavenly aspirations;
Dost thou visit us again? Awaiting
Thy mild presence, Earth and all her flowerets,

295

Bending down their feeble heads, and thirsting
For a dewdrop, pant. My sinking spirit,
Overflowing with a thousand visions,
Waits the still and sacred visitation
Of thy gentle influence. Come, inspire me
With the thoughts of happier worlds, and
brighter;

And with peace my weary bosom quicken.
Star-surrounded, gold-encircled goddess!
Thou upon whose dark and ample mantle
Thousand worlds are shining, thou who bear-
est,

Gently bearest all their restless being,
Fiery courses, ever busy orbits,

In the strength of everlasting quiet.

The warm hand of fellowship, all glowing,
And I join their everlasting music.

Slumber still, thou dull and drowsy burden Of my earthly way! Night spreads her mantle,

Night, and all her lamps that burn so brightly,
Brightly burn in yonder hallowed circle.
Visitants of heaven sink-rise before me;
Dwellers of the stars; and heaven's bright
portals,

In my nightly dreams to me are open.
Every angel, every blessed spirit,

All heaven's concert, all are smiling on me.
Moons and suns, up to what sun ascending!
What's the centre of these endless circles,
All-creating, all-inspiring spirit?

Veiled from this my wandering star, but haply Seen by yon far sun's more privileged dwell

Ere I was, and ere the earth had being!
And when I shall be not, when oblivion
Sweeps away that earth, and in the music
Of your hymns her voice shall speak no longer;
When her dull and distant tones shall perish,
And the sighs which from her poles are break-
ing,

In the song of light shall be extinguished —
Shall I then, fair spirits, dwell among ye?
Is there in your amaranthine foliage
Even for me a wreath of love and glory?
That my voice in your soft choir may mingle,
While I look upon this lowly welling,
To some son of earth a ray of brightness,
Or a hope-star to some child of sorrow?

The REV. CHARLES T. BROOKS was born in Salem, Mass., June 20, 1813, and was educated at Cambridge. After studying theology, he began to preach at Nahant, in 1835 From 1837 to 1871 he was pastor of a church at Newport, R. I., where he now lives. His literary work has been extensive, and his translations from the German are of great merit. His original hymns and other poems are scattered through the periodicals in which they appeared.

Good night!

To each weary, toil-worn wight, Now the day so sweetly closes, Every aching brow reposes Peacefully till morning light. Good night!

Home to rest!

Close the eye and calm the breast; Stillness through the streets is stealing, And the watchman's horn is pealing,

And the night calls softly, "Haste! Home to rest!"

Sweetly sleep!

Eden's breezes round ye sweep.
O'er the peace-forsaken lover
Let the darling image hover,
As he lies in transport deep,
Sweetly sleep!

So, good night!
Slumber on till morning light;
Slumber till another morrow
Brings its stores of joy and sorrow;
Fearless, in the Father's sight,
Slumber on. Good night!
KARL THEODOR KÖRNER. Translated by
CHARLES T. BROOKS.