O! sweet abode of peace and love,
Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest;
Had I the pinions of a dove,
I’d fly to thee and be at rest.
Kelly.
Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near:
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes.
Abide with me from morn till eve,