On the dewy breath of even
Thousand odors mingling rise,
Borne like incense up to Heaven,
Nature’s evening sacrifice.
With her fragrant offerings blending,
Let our glad thanksgivings be—
To Thy throne, O lord, ascending—
Incense of our hearts to Thee.
Thou, whose favors, without number,
All our days with gladness bless,
Let Thine eye, that knows no slumber,
Guard our hours of helplessness.
Then, though conscious we are sleeping
In the outer courts of death,
Safe beneath a Father’s keeping
Calm we rest in perfect faith.