Servant of God, re­mem­ber
The stream thy soul be­dew­ing,
The grace that came up­on thee
Anointing and re­new­ing.

When kind­ly slum­ber calls thee,
Upon thy bed re­clin­ing,
Trace thou the cross of Je­sus,
Thy heart and fore­head sign­ing.

The cross dis­solves the dark­ness,
And drives away temp­ta­tion;
It calms the wa­ver­ing spir­it
By qui­et con­se­cra­tion.

Begone, be­gone, the ter­rors
Of vague and form­less dream­ing;
Begone, thou fell de­ceiv­er,
With all thy boast­ed schem­ing.

Begone, thou crook­ed ser­pent,
Who, twist­ing and pur­su­ing,
By fraud and lie pre­par­est
The sim­ple soul’s un­do­ing.

Tremble, for Christ is near us,
Depart, for here He dwell­eth,
And this, the sign thou know­est,
Thy strong bat­tal­ions quell­eth.

Then while the wea­ry bo­dy
Its rest in sleep is near­ing,
The heart will muse in si­lence
On Christ and His ap­pear­ing.

To God, eter­nal Fa­ther,
To Christ, our king, be glo­ry,
And to the Ho­ly Spir­it,
In ne­ver end­ing sto­ry.