Classic Poem

VOL. 3, C ANTIQUE 73

Night ! how I love thy silent shades,
My spirits they compose;
The bliss of heav'n my soul pervades,
In spite of all my woes.

While sleep instills her poppy dews
In ev'ry slumb'ring eye,
I watch, to meditate and muse,
In blest tranquillity.

And when I feel a God immense
Familiarly impart,
With ev'ry proof he can dispense,
His favour to my heart,

My native meanness I lament,
Though most divinely fill'd
With all th' ineffable content,
That Deity can yield.

His purpose, and his course, he keeps;
Treads all my reas'nings down;
Commands me out of Nature's deeps,
And hides me in his own.

When in the dust, its proper place,
Our pride of heart we lay;
'Tis then, a deluge of his grace
Bears all our sins away.

Thou, whom I serve, and whose I am,
Whose influence from on high
Refines, and still refines my flame,
And makes my fetters fly;

How wretched is the creature's state
Who thwarts thy gracious pow'r;
Crush'd under sin's enormous weight,
Increasing ev'ry hour!

The night, when pass'd entire with thee,
How luminous and clear!
Then sleep has no delights for me,
Lest Thou shouldst disappear.

My Saviour! occupy me still
In this secure recess;
Let Reason slumber if she will,
My joy shall not be less:

Let Reason slumber out the night;
But if Thou deign to make
My soul th' abode of truth and light,
Ah, keep my heart awake!