  When we lie down On our couch to rest, Our conscience must be clear To be heavenly blessed. Then smile, oh gentle Savior, As you pass on into sleep, Then somewhere in slumber land You may holy creep. There your sins are washed away, And replaced by golden wings, Oh, think what you’ll enjoy To hear the heaven’s choir sing. Isn’t it hard to give Your heart and soul For the one you’d die to let live, When day by day they are growing cold. |
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