Levi Frisbie (1784–1822)

MY soul, a hymn of evening praise

To God, thy kind preserver, raise,

Whose hand this day hath guarded, fed

And thousand blessings round me shed.

Forgive my sins this day, Oh Lord,

In thought or feeling, deed or word;

And if in aught thy law I ’ve kept,

My feeble efforts Lord accept.

While nature round is hush’d to rest,

Let no vain thought disturb my breast;

Shed o’er my soul religion’s power,

Serenely solemn as the hour.

Oh bid thy angels o’er me keep

Their watch to shield me while I sleep,

Till the fresh morn shall round me break,

Then with new vigor may I wake.

Yet think, my soul, another day

Of thy short course has roll’d away;

Ah think how soon in deepening shade

Thy day of life itself shall fade.

How soon death’s sleep my eyes must close

Lock every sense in dread repose,

And lay me ’mid the awful gloom

And solemn silence of the tomb.

This very night, Lord, should it be,

Oh may my soul repose in thee,

Till the glad morn in heaven shall rise,

Then wake to triumph in the skies.