Prayer is the key for the bending kneeTo open the morn's first hours;See the incense rise to the starry skies,Like perfume from the flow'rs.
Not a soul so sad, nor a heart so gladWhen cometh the shades of night,But the daybreak song will the joy prolong,And some darkness turn to light.
Take the golden key in your hand and see,As the night-tide drifts away,How its blessed hold is a crown of gold,Thro' the weary hours of day.
When the shadows fall, and the vesper callIs sobbing its low refrain,'Tis a garland sweet to the toil-dent feet,And an antidote for pain.
Soon our toils will cease, and will come release;Life's tears shall be wiped away,As the pearl gates swing, and the gold harps ring,And we enter eternal day.