Evensong is hushed in silence,
And the hour of rest is nigh;
Strengthen us for work tomorrow,
Jesus, Son of God most high!
Thou who in the village workshop,
Fashioning the yoke and plough,
Didst eat bread of daily labor,
Succor them that labor now.
We are weary of life-long toil,
Of sorrow, and pain, and sin;
But there is a city with streets of gold,
And all is peace within.
John Purchas
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