Father, by Thy love and pow­er
Comes again the ev­en­ing hour;
Light has van­ished, la­bors cease,
Weary crea­tures rest in peace;
Thou, whose ge­ni­al dews dis­till
On the low­li­est weed that grows
Father, guard our couch from ill,
Lull Thy child­ren to re­pose,
We to Thee our­selves re­sign;
Let our lat­est thoughts be Thine.

Savior, to Thy Fa­ther bear
This our fee­ble ev­en­ing pray­er;
Thou hast seen how oft to­day
We, like sheep, have gone as­tray;
Worldly thoughts, and thoughts of pride,
Wishes to Thy cross un­true,
Secret faults and un­des­cried,
Meet Thy spir­it-pierc­ing view;
Blessèd Sav­ior, yet, through Thee,
Grant that we may par­doned be.

Holy Spir­it, breath of balm
Fall on us in ev­en­ing’s calm;
Yet a while, be­fore we sleep,
We with Thee will vi­gils keep;
Lead us on our sins to muse,
Give us tru­est pe­ni­tence;
Then the love of God in­fuse,
Breathing hum­ble con­fidence;
Melt our spir­its, mold our will,
Soften, strength­en, com­fort still.

Blessèd Tri­ni­ty, be near,
Through the hours of dark­ness drear;
Then, when shrinks the lone­ly heart,
Thou more clear­ly pre­sent art;
Father, Son, and Ho­ly Ghost,
Watch o’er our de­fense­less heads;
Let Thy an­gels’ guard­ian host
Keep all ev­il from our beds,
Till the flood of morn­ing rays
Wake us to a song of praise.