1 Father supreme! Thou high and holy One, To Thee we bow; Now, when the labor of the day is done, Devoutly, now. 2 From age to age unchanging, still the same All-good Thou art; Hallowed forever be Thy reverend name In every heart! 3 When the glad morn upon the hills was spread, Thy smile was there; Now, as the darkness gathers overhead, We feel Thy care. 4 Night spreads her shade upon another day Forever past; So o'er our faults, Thy love, we humbly pray A veil may cast. 5 Silence and sleep, o'er hearts by earth distrest, Now sweetly steal; So every fear that struggles in the breast Shall faith conceal. 6 Thou through the dark will watch above our sleep With eye of love; And Thou wilt wake us, when the sunbeams leap The hills above. 7 O, may each heart its gratitude express As life expands, And find the triumph of its happiness In Thy commands! 554. 8 & 7s. M. Martineau's Coll. Evening Hymn. 1 On the dewy breath of even Thousand odors mingling rise, Borne like incense up to heaven,-- Nature's evening sacrifice. 2 With her fragrant offerings blending, Let our glad thanksgivings be To Thy throne, O Lord, ascending,-- Incense of our hearts to Thee. 3 Thou, whose favors without number All our days with gladness bless, Let Thine eye, that knows no slumber, Guard our hours of helplessness. 4 Then, though conscious we are sleeping In the outer courts of death, Safe beneath a Father's keeping, Calm we rest in perfect faith. 555. 7s. M. Doddridge. Night. 1 While the stars unnumbered roll Round the ever-constant pole, Far above these spangled skies All my thoughts to God shall rise. 2 From on high He shall impart Secret comfort to my heart; He in these serenest hours Guide my spiritual powers. 3 He His spirit doth diffuse, Sweeter far than midnight dews; Lifting all my thoughts above, On the wings of faith and love. 4 What if death my sleep invade;-- Should I be of death afraid? Whilst encircled by Thine arm, Death may strike, but cannot harm. 5 Visions brighter than the morn Greet the deathless spirit born; See, the guardian angel nigh Waits to waft my soul on high! 6 With Thy heavenly presence blest, Death is life, and labor, rest; Welcome sleep or death to me, Still secure, for still with Thee! 556. 11s. M. Breviary. Even-Song.