John Brownlie (trans.) · 21 of 89

The morn awakes; from eastern hills

I The morn awakes; from eastern hills The golden light creation fills; And arrows chase the night that flies Before the ever-brightening skies.

II The morn awakes; up, soul of mine, And, like the morn, in beauty shine; Strong, as the high-ascending sun, Thy race of duty boldly run.

III Night for the weary comes at length; Morn gives the soul the needed strength; Light shall thy path encircling, cheer, And melt each lingering cloud of fear.

IV O Light of lights, when night descends, And brooding fear my life attends, Shew to my soul, that night departs When morning trims her glowing darts.

V O Christ, Who art my Better Sun, Bright shines the day with Thee begun; No terror can the mind oppress, Nor cloud th' aspiring soul distress.

VI To Thee, O glorious Light of light, Be honour paid when morn is bright; To Father, and to Spirit blest, Be glory every day exprest.