Hast thou e’er given the world a page,
A line that thou wouldst blot,
As adverse to an upward age?
God knoweth thou hast not!
Giver of life and all my powers,
To thee my soul I lift!
And in these lone and thoughtful hours,
I thank thee for the gift.
Day, with its toil and care withdrawn,
Night’s shadows o’er me thrown,