While many cry, in Nature’s night, Ah! who will show the way to bliss? Lord, lift on us Thy saving light; We seek no other guide than this. Gladness Thy sacred presence brings, More than the joyful reaper knows; Or he who treads the grapes, and sings, While with new wine his vat o’erflows. In peace I lay me down to sleep; Thine arm, O Lord, shall stay my head, Thine angel spread his tent, and keep His midnight watch around my bed.