Prayer is the key for the bend­ing knee
To op­en the morn’s first hours;
See the in­cense rise to the star­ry skies,
Like per­fume from the flow­ers.

Not a soul so sad, nor a heart so glad
When com­eth the shades of night,
But the day­break song will the joy pro­long,
And some dark­ness turn to light.

Take the gold­en key in your hand and see,
As the night-tide drifts away,
How its bless­èd hold is a crown of gold,
Thro’ the wea­ry hours of day.

When the sha­dows fall, and the ves­per call
Is sob­bing its low re­frain,
’Tis a gar­land sweet to the toil-dent feet,
And an an­ti­dote for pain.

Soon our toils will cease, and will come re­lease;
Life’s tears shall be wiped away,
As the pearl gates swing, and the gold harps ring,
And we en­ter eter­nal day.