Now woods and wolds are sleeping

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Now woods and wolds are sleeping,
And darkness fast is creeping
O’er byre, hearth, and hall;
But thou, my soul, ere slumber,
For blessings passing number
Exalt the Giver of them all.

Ye also, O my dearest,
My friends and kindred nearest,
God rest you safe from harm!
His angel hosts attend ye,
Their golden shields defend ye,
From nightly danger and alarm.