It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so He giveth His beloved sleep.
Psalm 127:2
Words: T. C. Tildesley, 1871. Appeared in Hymns for Use in Divine Worship (Battle Creek, Michigan: Review & Herald, 1886)
Music: Abt Franz W. Abt (1819–1882) (🔊 
).
If you know Tildesley’s full name, or where to get a good picture of him (head & shoulders, at least 200×300 pixels), would you send us an e-mail?
Sorrow and care may meet,
The tempest cloud may low’r,
The surge of sin may beat
Upon earth’s troubled shore;
God doth His own in safety keep,
He giveth His belovèd sleep,
He giveth His belovèd sleep.
The din of war may roll,
With all her raging flight,
Grief may oppress the soul,
Throughout the weary nigh;
God doth His own in safety keep,
He giveth His belovèd sleep,
He giveth His belovèd sleep.
In childhood’s winsome page,
In manhood’s joyous bloom,
In feebleness and age,
In death’s dark gathering gloom,
God will His own in safety keep,
He giveth His belovèd sleep,
He giveth His belovèd sleep.