Now Lord, let Thy servant go in peace,
Unto whom Thy promise is made good,
Now mine eyes indeed have seen His face,
Child promised, Savior of the world.
Dim these eyes have grown as years have passed,
In toils and labors long in Thine employ,
Mortal still I am though I outlast,
Mortal kith and kin and mortal joy.
In the years since once in Ptolemy’s court,
Thine angel stayed the wav’ring of my hand,
I’ve seen the mortal curse with deadly dart,
Snatch all away: the fruit of Adam’s…