160
HYMN.
In woe,—that, while to drowning tears
Our hearts their joys resign,
We may remember who can turn
Such water into wine.
By hours of day,—that when our feet
O'er hill and valley run,
We still may think the light of truth
More welcome than the sun.
By hours of night,—that when the air
Its dew and shadow yields,
We still may hear the voice of God
In silence of the fields.
Oh! then sleep comes on us like death,
All soundless, deaf and deep:
Lord! teach us so to watch and pray,
That death may come like sleep.
