1 God hath made the moon, whose beam
Shimmers soft o'er hill and stream,
Lighting with her silv'ry gleam
All our lonely way:
Glides she, with companions bright,
Thro' the silent hours of night;
Then fades in overwhelming light,
Lost in perfect day.
2 God had made the glorious sun,
Through his daily course to run;
From the dawn till day is done
Brightly shineth he.
When his circling round is o'er,
And we see him here no more,
He rises on a brighter shore,
Far beyond the sea.
3 God hath sent me here below,
In my daily life to show,
Constant love to friend and foe,
As He showed for me.
When we here have closed our eyes,
Sunk where death's dark ocean lies,
To worlds of glory may we rise,
Lighted, Lord, by Thee!