 | Moral songs |  |
AWAKE AT NIGHT.
Solemn night broods dark and still,
Over wood, and field, and hill;
While my brothers slumber sweet,
I have climbed the window seat.
Over wood, and field, and hill;
While my brothers slumber sweet,
I have climbed the window seat.
All along the village lane,
Not a light is in the pane,
In the air there's not a sound,
Not a footfall on the ground.
Not a light is in the pane,
In the air there's not a sound,
Not a footfall on the ground.
Only the white owl I hear,
Snoring from the ivy near,
Or the rustling of the trees,
Bending to the cold night breeze.
Snoring from the ivy near,
Or the rustling of the trees,
Bending to the cold night breeze.
Or a cat goes stealing by,
With a step so soft and shy,
I can hardly hear her fall,
Dropping from the garden wall.
With a step so soft and shy,
I can hardly hear her fall,
Dropping from the garden wall.
31
Night, so beautiful and calm,
Bringing to the weary balm,
Who all day with ceaseless toil
Plied the loom, or tilled the soil;
Bringing to the weary balm,
Who all day with ceaseless toil
Plied the loom, or tilled the soil;
Worn-out eye, and weary hand,
Rest and close at thy command,
And thou biddest gentle sleep,
O'er our weary senses creep.
Rest and close at thy command,
And thou biddest gentle sleep,
O'er our weary senses creep.
Blessed He Whose constant care,
Spread thee over earth and air,
Giving us thy silent hours
To improve our wasted powers.
Spread thee over earth and air,
Giving us thy silent hours
To improve our wasted powers.
We could never rise by day,
Fit for toil, or fresh for play,
If we had not all night long
Sleep to make us new and strong.
Fit for toil, or fresh for play,
If we had not all night long
Sleep to make us new and strong.
Ere I turn away my eyes
From the star-bespangled skies,
From the dark trees clustered dim
Let me think awhile of Him.
From the star-bespangled skies,
From the dark trees clustered dim
Let me think awhile of Him.
Ere again I lay my head,
Snugly on my curtained bed,
Let me praise His love and might,
Who has made the quiet night.
Snugly on my curtained bed,
Let me praise His love and might,
Who has made the quiet night.
| Moral songs | |