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Come, my soul, thou must be waking

Author: F. R. L. Canitz, 1654-1699; Henry J. Buckoll Meter: 8.4.7.8.4.7 Appears in 235 hymnals Lyrics: 1 Come, my soul, thou must be waking. Now is breaking O'er the earth another day: Come, to Him who made this splendor, See thou render All thy feeble strength can pay. 2 Gladly hail the sun returning, Ready burning Be the incense of thy powers; For the night is safely ended, God hath tended With His care thy helpless hours. 3 Pray that He may prosper ever Each endeavor, When thine aim is good and true; And that He may ever thwart thee, And convert thee, When thou evil wouldst pursue. 4 Think that He thy ways beholdeth; He unfoldeth Every fault that lurks within; He the hidden shame glossed over Can discover, And discern each deed of sin. 5 Mayest thou on life's last morrow, Free from sorrow, Pass away in slumber sweet; And, released from death's dark sadness, Rise in gladness That far brighter Sun to greet. 6 Only God's free gifts abuse not, Light refuse not, But His Spirit's voice obey; Thou with Him shalt dwell, beholding Light enfolding All things in unclouded day. Amen. Topics: Daily Prayer Morning Used With Tune: HAYDN

Wake, my soul, with all things living

Author: Madeleine Forell Marshall; Friedrich R. L. von Canitz, 1654-1699 Meter: 8.4.7.8.4.7 Appears in 1 hymnal

Come, my soul, awake, 'tis morning

Author: Catherine Winkworth; Von Canitz, 1654-1699 Meter: 8.4.7.8.4.7 Appears in 5 hymnals Lyrics: Come, my soul, awake, 'tis morning, Day is dawning O'er the earth, arise and pray; Come, to Him who made this splendour, Thou must render All thy feeble powers can pay. From the stars now learn thy duty, See their beauty Paling in the golden air; So God's light thy mists should banish, Thus should vanish What to darkened sense seemed fair. See how everything that liveth, Gladly striveth On the pleasand light to gaze; Stirs with joy each thing that groweth, As it knoweth Darkness smitten by these rays. Soul, thy incense also proffer; Thou shouldst offer Praise to Him, who from thy head Kept afar the storms of sorrow, And the morrow Finds the night in peace hath fled. Bid Him bless what thou art doing, If pursuing Some good aim; but if there lurks Ill intent in thine endeavour, May He ever Thwart and turn thee from Thy works. Think that he, the All-discerning, Knows each turning Of thy path, each sinful stain; Nay what shame would fain gloss over, Can discover; All thou dost to Him is plain. Bound unto the flying hours Are our powers; Earth's vain good floats down their wave, That thy ship, my soul, is hasting, Never resting, To its haven in the grave. Pray that when thy life is closing, Calm reposing, Thou mayst die, and not in pain; That, the night of death departed, Thou glad-hearted, Mayst behold the Sun again. From God's glances shrink thou never, Meet them ever; Who submits him to His grace, Finds that earth no sunshine knoweth Such as gloweth O'er his pathway all his days. Wakenest thou again to sorrow, Oh! then borrow Strength from Him, whose sun-like might On the mountain-summit tarries, And yet carries To the vales their mirth and light. Round the gifts He on thee showers, Fiery towers Will he set, be not afraid, Thou shalt dwell 'mid angel legions, In the regions Satan's self dares not invade.