Come, My Soul, Thou Must Be Waking

Come

my soul

thou must be wak­ing;

Now is break­ing ov­er the earth an­oth­er day;

Come to Him who made this splen­dor;

See thou ren­der all thy fee­ble pow­ers can pay.

Thou

too

hail the light re­turn­ing

Ready burn­ing be the in­cense of thy pow­ers;

For the night is safe­ly end­ed

God hath tend­ed with His care thy help­less hours.

Pray that He may pros­per ev­er

Each en­dea­vor when thine aim is good and true;

But that He may ev­er thwart thee

And con­vert thee

when thou ev­il wouldst pur­sue.

Think that He thy ways be­hold­eth;

He un­fold­eth ev­ery fault that lurks with­in;

He the hid­den shame glossed ov­er

Can dis­co­ver

and dis­cern each deed of sin.

Mayest thou on life’s last mor­row

Free from sor­row

pass away in slum­ber sweet:

And

re­leased from death’s dark sad­ness

Rise in glad­ness that far bright­er sun to greet.

Only God’s free gifts ab­use not

Light re­fuse not

but His Spir­it’s voice ob­ey;

Thou with Him shalt dwell

be­hold­ing

Light en­fold­ing all things in un­cloud­ed day.