Three Choral Hymns

My God, who makes the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
And to give light to all below
Doth send him round the skies.

When from the chamber of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires, nor stops to rest,
But round the world he spins.

So, like the sun, would I fulfil
The business of the day;
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heavenly way.

And now another day is gone,
I'll sing my Maker's praise.
My comforts every hour make known
His providence and grace.

I lay my body down to sleep;
Let angels guard my head,
And through the hours of darkness keep
Their watch around my bed.

With cheerful heart I close my eyes,
Since thou wilt not remove;
And in the morning let me rise
Rejoicing in thy love.

Unto Thy word so tuned let me be,
That in each part I may thereto agree.
He sings and plays the songs which best Thou lovest,
Who does and says the things which Thou approvest.

Teach me the strain that calmeth minds enraged
And which from vain affections doth recall.
So to the choir where angels music make
I may aspire when I this life forsake.

When I survey the bright celestial sphere
So rich with jewels hung
That Night doth like an Ethiope bride appear,

My soul her wings doth spread and heavenward flies,
The Almighty's mysteries
To read in the large volumes of the skies.

No unregarded star contracts its light
Into so small a character
Removed far from our human sight.

But if we steadfast look, we shall discern
In it, as in some holy book,
How man may heavenly knowledge learn.

For the bright firmament shoots forth no flame
So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator's name.