4 We meet Thee in the pensive hour
When wearied nature sinks to rest;
When dies the breeze, and sleeps the flower
And peace is given to every breast.
5 We see Thee when, at eve, afar
We upward lift our wondering sight,
We see Thee in each silent star
That glorifies the gloom of night.
6 But better still, and still more clear,
Thee in Thy holy Son we see;