Matin Anthem.

It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto thy name, O Most High; to show forth thy loving-kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night. Ps. xcii. 1, 2.

THE gloom hath its shapes, and the silence its warning;

And dim terrors troop 'neath the banner of

Night:

But God guards our couch; and Joy comes in the

morning;

Our souls, like the orient, rejoice in His light.

Oh, praise, for the gentle Sleep, sitting in shadow,

And singing sweet songs to the worn heart the while;

Its balmy spell falls as the dew on the meadow,

When low winds caress, and the loving stars

smile.

Forgive, if ill thoughts, o'er those slumbers so sainted,

Career'd, as night birds o'er the sleeping earth

soar:

Oh, be all my soul like the crystal untainted,

Which, stirr'd in the font, is still pure as before!

The sun to his journey goes forth like a giant,
Enrobed by his Lord with the radiance of day:

Oh, thus be my pilgrimage, lofty, reliant,

As true in His service, as strong in His stay!

Vouchsafe to deliver from sin and from danger;

My loved ones, oh, cherish them, guide and

defend;

Thy grace grant my foeman, Thy bounty the stranger; And blessings, like fruit-clusters, hang round my

friend!

So past be each day, that, when all days are over,

When the blind sun hath sunk, a spent spark, from

the sky,

My soul shall-though darkness the universe cover— Arise to that Sun where the day cannot die!

Vesper Notes.

I will both lay me down in peace and sleep for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.

Ps. iv. 8.

PRAISE for the blessed day!

Pardon for all its wrath, for all its wrong!

May, like its sun, life pass away;

Or like the sweet notes of its last bird's song.

When sleep hath seal'd mine eye,

And the unconscious arm forgets to guard,

Be Thou, that never slumberest,' nigh!

Faith sleeps in peace, whiles God keeps watch and

ward!

When night is on the earth,

Then forest tyrants prowl abroad for prey; Thus guilty thoughts, in dreams, steal forth: But be Thou in my heart,-its night is day!

Bless Thee, O Lord, for sleep;

The brave and free; nor slave to Want nor Will!

Its mimic world forgets to weep;

The wrong is righted, and the storm is still!

The panting soul drinks deep

From its untroubled founts, and lives anew:

Thus may I rise, new-born, from sleep,

Thy word to cherish, and Thy will to do!

Death is the worn soul's rest,

And sleep the body's; both are sent to save: After life's weary day, oh, blest

And welcome as my couch may be my grave!

When my last night shall fall,

Unto its morrow be Thy Day-star given; When my last sleep this breast shall pall,

May I, through Jesus' grace, awake in heaven!