Weary

by
 Some praise the Lord for Light,
 The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
 The healing dark.
When wearily I lie, With aching sight, With what thanksgiving I Turn out the light! When to night's drowsy deep Serene I sink, How glad am I to sleep, To cease to think! From care and fret set free, In sweet respite, With joy I peacefully Turn out the light.
Lie down thou weary one, And sink to rest; Nay, grieve not for the sun, The dark is best.
So greet with grateful breath Eternal Night, When soft the hand of Death Turns out the light.

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