Now woods and wolds are sleeping

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.