O God, whose daylight leadeth down
Into the sunless way,
Who with restoring sleep dost crown
The labour of the day!
What I have done, Lord, make it clean
With thy forgiveness dear;
That so to-day what might have been,
To-morrow may appear.
And when my thought is all astray,
Yet think thou on in me;
That with the new-born innocent day
My soul rise fresh and free.
Nor let me wander all in vain
Through dreams that mock and flee;
But even in visions of the brain,
Go wandering toward thee.
