Then comes the beautiful and reassuring thought:
Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near!
O may no earthborn cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes.
The peculiar tenderness in Keble’s poetry is beautifully illustrated in the second stanza:
When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
Forever on my Saviour’s breast.