Weary

 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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