Compline with the Celts

* Christ without sin, Christ of wounds,
I am placing my soul and my body

under Thy guarding this night,
Christ of the poor, Christ of tears.
Thy cross be my shielding this night,
O Thou Son of tears, of the wounds, of the piercing.

I am going now into the sleep:
O be it in Thy dear arm’s keep,
O God of grace, that I shall awake.