Page:The Christian Year 1887.djvu/19

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'Tis gone, that bright and orbèd blaze, Fast fading from our wistful gaze; You 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 For ever 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.