“Sun of my soul, thou Savior dear, it is not night if thou be near; O may no earth-born cloud arise, to hide thee from thy servant’s eyes. When the soft dews of kindly sleep, my wearied eye-lids gently steep, be my last thought; how sweet to rest, for ever on my Savior’s breast. Come near and bless us when we wake, ere through the world our way we take; till in the ocean of thy love, We loose our selves in heaven above.” by Frank Josef Haydn ( 1792) my Jesus, how near to you these words bring us from long ago. Amen.
Sheila Bennett, Jeffersonville
Readers — ministers, rabbis, priests and laypersons alike are invited to contribute prayers to this daily feature. Mail them to “Prayer,” The Telegraph, P.O. Box 4167, Macon, GA 31213; or fax to 478-744-4385 or email firstname.lastname@example.org