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Another day its course has run;
Its conflict past, its labours are done.
‘Tis time for silence and for sleep.
Have I sown good? Then good I’ll reap.
Have I sown ill? The harvest day
Comes without fail, without delay.
Have I occasions used? They never,
Return: are lost or gained forever.
What did I do? What did I say?
I shall not pass again that way.
O Lord, these things give serious thought.
But not the work that I have wrought,
Not yet the word that I have said
Shall be the pillow for my had
To rest on from this day of mine,
This weary day! Nay, Lord, but Thine
Unchanging and unmerited
Eternal love. There shall I rest
(Lord, I am Thine, when all is said!)
In happy peace, secure and blest,
As a tired child on mother’s breast.