Page:Poems Cook.djvu/413

Let me thank thee, let me own,
At the footstool of thy throne,
All my grateful joy and love,
Drawn from hopes that point above;
Let me lay my heart before thee,
And with holy trust implore thee
To forgive its human blot,
Gather'd in its human lot.
Listen, Father! to my singing,
Like a child to thee I'm clinging;
If I wander, guide me right,
Be thou watchman of my night!"

Let me ask thee ere I sleep,
To remember those who weep,
Those who moan with some wild sorrow,
That shall dread to meet the morrow;
Let me ask thee to abide
At the fainting, sick one's side,
Where the plaints of anguish rise
In smother'd groans and weary sighs;
Give them strength to brook and bear
Trial-pain, and trial-care;
Let them see thy saving light;
Be thou "watchman of their night!"

God of all; thou knowest well,
Myriads of thy children dwell
Here among us, lone and blind,
In the midnight of the mind;
Well thou knowest how they need
Words to teach and hand to lead;
Well thou knowest that they sin,
For the want of light within;
They grope and fall, and men refuse
To raise them up and "bind the bruise;"
But thou, O God! in judgment's might,
Be thou "watchman of their night!"

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