What of the night, watchman, what of the night?
The windy gale sweeps by,
The thick shadows fall, and the night-bird’s call
Sounds mournfully through the sky;
What of the night, watchman, what of the night? The night is dark, it is long and drear,
But who, while others sleep,
Is that little band who together stand,
And their patient vigils keep? All awake is the strained eye,
And awake is the listening ear;
For their Lord they wait, and watch at the gate,
His chariot wheels to hear. Long have they waited, that little band;
And ever and anon,
To faith’s clear eye the dawn seemed nigh,
The night seemed almost gone. What of the night, watchman, what of the night?
Though the wintry gale sweeps by,
When the darkest hour begins to lower
We know that the dawn is nigh. Courage, ye servants of the Lord,
The night is almost o’er;
Your Master will come and call you home,
To weep and watch no more.
—Songs of the Night.