Come, Thou bright and morn­ing star,
Light of light with­out be­gin­ning;
Shine up­on us from afar
That we may be kept from sin­ning.
Drive away by Thy clear light
Our dark night.

Let Thy grace, like morn­ing dew,
Falling soft on bar­ren plac­es,
Comfort, quick­en, and re­new
Our dry souls and dy­ing grac­es;
Bless Thy flock from Thy rich store
Evermore.

May Thy fer­vent love de­stroy
Our cold works, in us awak­ing
Ardent zeal and ho­ly joy
At the pur­ple morn’s first break­ing.
Let us tru­ly rise ere yet
Life has set.

Ah! Thou day­spring from on high,
Grant that at Thy next ap­pear­ing
We who in the graves do lie
May arise, Thy sum­mons hear­ing,
And re­joice in our new life,
Far from strife.

Light us to those hea­ven­ly spheres,
Sun of grace, in glo­ry shroud­ed;
Lead us through this vale of tears
To the land where days un­cloud­ed,
Purest joy, and per­fect peace
Never cease.