My God, I now from sleep awake,
The sole pos­sess­ion of me take;
From mid­night ter­rors me se­cure,
And guard my heart from thoughts im­pure.

Blest an­gels, while we silent lie,
Your hal­le­lu­jahs sing on high;
You joy­ful hymn the ev­er-blest,
Before the throne, and ne­ver rest.

I with your choir ce­les­ti­al join,
In of­fer­ing up a hymn di­vine;
With you in Heav’n I hope to dwell,
And bid the night and world fare­well.

My soul, when I shake off this dust,
Lord, in Thy arms I will en­trust;
O make me Thy pe­cu­liar care,
Some man­sion for my soul pre­pare.

Give me a place at Thy saints’ feet,
Or some fall’n an­gel’s va­cant seat;
I’ll strive to sing as loud as they,
Who sit above in bright­er day.

O may I al­ways rea­dy stand,
With my lamp burn­ing in my hand;
May I in sight of Heav’n re­joice,
Whene’er I hear the Bride­groom’s voice.

All praise to Thee, in light ar­rayed,
Who light Thy dwell­ing place hast made:
A bound­less ocean of bright beams
From Thy all glo­ri­ous God­head streams.

Blest Je­sus, Thou on Heav’n in­tent,
Whole nights hast in de­vo­tion spent;
But I, frail crea­ture, soon am tired,
And all my zeal is soon ex­pired.

Shine on me, Lord, new life im­part,
Fresh ar­dors kin­dle in my heart;
One ray of Thy all quick­en­ing light
Dispels the sloth and clouds of night.

Lord, lest the tempt­er me sur­prise,
Watch ov­er Thine own sac­ri­fice;
All loose, all idle thoughts cast out,
And make my ve­ry dreams de­vout.

Praise God, from whom all bless­ings flow,
Praise Him all crea­tures here be­low;
Praise Him above, ye heav’n­ly host,
Praise Fa­ther, Son, and Ho­ly Ghost.