The Christian Year by John Keble
page 11 of 300 (03%)
page 11 of 300 (03%)
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Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live: Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die. Thou Framer of the light and dark, Steer through the tempest Thine own ark: Amid the howling wintry sea We are in port if we have Thee. The Rulers of this Christian land, 'Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, - Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright, Let all do all as in Thy sight. Oh! by Thine own sad burthen, borne So meekly up the hill of scorn, Teach Thou Thy Priests their daily cross To bear as Thine, nor count it loss! If some poor wandering child of Thine Have spurned to-day the voice divine, Now, Lord, the gracious work begin; Let him no more lie down in sin. Watch by the sick: enrich the poor With blessings from Thy boundless store: Be every mourner's sleep to-night, Like infants' slumbers, pure and light. |
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