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.