The Child's Evening Hymn

Dublin Core


The Child's Evening Hymn


Father, while the day-light dies,
Hear our grateful voices rise
For the blessings that we share,
For thy kindness and thy care,
For the joy that fills our breast,
And the love that makes us blest,
We thank thee, Father.

For an earthly father's arm,
Shielding us from wrong and harm -
For a mother's watchful cares,
Mingled with her many prayers:
For the happy kindred band,
'Midst whose peaceful links we stand,
We bless thee, Father.

Yet, while 'neath the evening skies,
Thus we bid our thanks arise,
Father, still we think of those
Who are bow'd with many woes;
Whom no earthly parent's arm
Can protect from wrong and harm -
The poor slaves, Father!

Ah! while we are richly blest,
They are wretched and distrest!
Outcasts in their native land,
Crush'd beneath oppression's hand:
Scarcely knowing even thee,
Mighty Lord of earth and sea!
Oh, save them, Father.

Touch the flinty hearts that long
Have remorseless done them wrong;
Open the eyes that long have been
Blinded to each guilty scene:
That the slave - a slave no more -
Grateful thanks to thee may pour,
And bless thee, Father.




1:32, p. 4




Unattributed, “The Child's Evening Hymn,” Periodical Poets, accessed April 14, 2024,


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