But when the soul shall take her wing
From out her dark enveloping,-

To see Thee, praise Thee, love Thee still,
Her urn within shall fill.

Dread Three in One, mould us, and bless,
In Thine o'erflowing bounteousness,
To pass unharm'd through this our night,
And see Thine endless light.

AT THE COMPLINE.

Ye are all the children of light and the children of the day: we are not of night nor of darkness; therefore, let us not sleep as do others; but let us watch and be sober.-1 THESS. v.

"Grates peracto jam die."

AND now the day is past and gone,
Holy God, we bow to Thee,
Again as nightly shades come on,
To Thy sheltering side we flee.

For all the ills this day hath done,
Let our bitter sorrow plead,
And keep us from the wicked one,

When ourselves we cannot heed.

Ravening he prowls Thy fold around,
In his watchful circuitings:

Father, this night let us be found
'Neath the shadow of Thy wings.

O when shall that Thy day have come,
Day ne'er sinking to the west;
That country and that holy home,
Where no foe shall break our rest.

Now to the Father and the Son
We our feeble voice would raise,
With Holy Spirit join'd in One,

And from age to age would praise.

THE SECOND DAY.

AT MIDNIGHT.

He spreadeth out the heavens like a curtain, and layeth the beams of His chambers in the waters, and maketh the clouds His chariot.-PSALM civ.

"Dei canamus gloriam."

GLORY to God on high,
Upon this day unfolding
His tent along the sky,
To wondering man beholding.

Heav'n's roof becomes a bed,
Where liquid lakes are pending,
On earth beneath outspread,

In dewy drops descending.

An image of the dower
Thou hast for us prepared,
Of grace the living shower

For them Thy love hath spared.

C

They drink that holy dew,
In faithful heart concealing;
It heavenward springs anew,
Itself in strength revealing.

Blest people, on whose land
Such high gifts are pouring,
Thy love and bounteous hand,
With fruits of love restoring.

Then let us Thy great Name

Day by day be singing,
Till with the glad acclaim
Eternity is ringing.

AT THE MATTINS.

I love them that love Me; and those that seek Me early shall find Me.-PROV. viii.

"Nil laudibus nostris eges."

OUR praise Thou need'st not, but Thy love,

Our Father and our Friend,

Would have our prayers thus soar above,
In blessings to descend.

Thy secret judgments' depths profound
Still sings the silent night,

The day, upon his golden round,
Thy pity infinite.

The soul lost in astonishment

Would speechless wonder fill,

But in the ravish'd bosom pent,
Love cannot all be still.

Feeble and faint she fain would tell Of our great Father's love, Tempering the ills that with us dwell, And pledging good above.

Thither would our best thoughts aspire,

But chains on us abide;

O quicken Thou our faint desire,
And to Thy presence guide.