Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/A Sacred Melody

A Sacred Melody.

Be Thou, O God! by night, by day,
My Guide, my Guard from sin,
My Life, my Trust, my Light Divine,
To keep me pure within;—

Pure as the air, when day's first light
A cloudless sky illumes,
And active as the lark, that soars
Till heaven shine round its plumes.

So may my soul, upon the wings
Of faith, unwearied rise,
Till at the gate of heaven it sings,
'Midst light from Paradise.