Sunday Evening Late

Come, my soul, thou must be waking;
Now is breaking o'er the earth another day:
Come to him who made this splendor;
See thou render all thy feeble pow'rs can pay.

Thou, too, hail the light returning;
Ready burning be the incense of thy pow'rs;
For the night is safely ended,
God hath tended with his care thy helpless hours.

Pray that he may prosper ever
Each endeavor, when thine aim is good and true;
But that he may ever thwart thee,
And convert thee, when thou evil wouldst pursue.

Think that he thy ways beholdeth;
He unfoldeth ev'ry fault that lurks within;
Ev'ry stain of shame glossed over
Can discover, and discern each deed of sin.

Only God's free gifts abuse not,
Light refuse not, but his Spirit's voice obey;
Thou with him shalt dwell, beholding
Light enfolding all things in unclouded day.

-- The Trinity Hymnal, no. 334