When shades of night around us close,
And wea­ry limbs in sleep re­pose,
The faith­ful soul awake may be,
And long­ing sigh, O Lord, to Thee.

Thou true De­sire of na­tions, hear,
Thou Word of God, Thou Sav­ior dear;
In pi­ty heed our hum­ble cries,
And bid at length the fall­en rise.

O come, Re­deem­er, come and free
Thine own from guilt and mi­se­ry;
The gates of Heav’n again un­fold,
Which Ad­am’s sin had closed of old.

All praise, eter­nal Son, to Thee,
Whose ad­vent sets Thy peo­ple free,
Whom with the Fa­ther we ad­ore
And Ho­ly Ghost for­ev­er­more.