Harmonia Sacra

Now that the sun hath veil'd his light
And bid the world goodnight;
To the soft bed my body I dispose,
But where shall my soul repose?

Dear, dear God, even in Thy arms,
And can there be any so sweet security!
Then to thy rest, O my soul!
And singing, praise the mercy
That prolongs thy days.

Hallelujah!

My opening eyes are purg'd, and lo!
A dismal scene of mighty woe!
What is't I see?
Mankind's redeemer stretch'd upon the cursed tree;
With ghastly wounds his body torn,
His limbs with ruder scourges worn;
No room for doubt: alas! 'tis he!
See, my soul, the purple pride
That adorns his thorny crown
See the streams that haste to meet 
Another headlong bloody tide, 
From his hands, and from his side,
To his no less wounded feet, 
Trickling down.
Look how the meriting drops gush out 
From their wide wound;
Mysterious drops of mighty price,
Each an offending world's sufficient sacrifice;
Like common gore they stain the blushing earth around,
From all his emptied veins they flow
Profuse and prodigal as worthless streams;
Ah see 'em how they fall!

Tell me, some pitying angel, quickly say, 
Where does my soul's sweet darling stray, 
In tiger's, or more cruel Herod's way? 
Ah! rather let his little footsteps press 
Unregarded through the wilderness, 
Where milder savages resort: 
The desert's safer than a tyrant's court. 
Why, fairest object of my love, 
Why dost thou from my longing eyes remove? 
Was it a waking dream that did foretell 
Thy wondrous birth? no vision from above? 
Where's Gabriel now that visited my cell? 
I call; he comes not; flatt'ring hopes, farewell. 

Me Judah's daughters once caress'd, 
Call'd me of mothers the most bless'd. 

Now (fatal change!) of mothers most distress'd. 

How shall my soul its motions guide?
How shall I stem the various tide, 
Whilst faith and doubt my lab'ring soul divide?

For whilst of thy dear sight beguil'd, 
I trust the God, but oh! I fear the child.

The night is come, like to the day,
Depart not thou, great God, away;
On thee, O Lord, I do repose,
Protect me from my watchful foes.
So shall I securely lay,
And sweetly pass the hours away. 

Chorus
In heav'nly dreams my soul advance,
O make my sleep a holy trance.
Sleep is a death, O let me try,
By sleeping, how it is to die.