Love of the Fa­ther, love of God the Son,
From whom all came, in whom was all be­gun;
Who form­est heav­en­ly beau­ty out of strife,
Creation’s whole de­sire and breath of life.

Thou the all ho­ly, Thou su­preme in might,
Thou dost give peace, Thy pre­sence mak­eth right;
Thou with Thy fa­vor all things dost en­fold,
With Thine all kind­ness free from harm wilt hold.

Hope of all com­fort, splen­dor of all aid,
That dost not fail nor leave the heart afraid;
To all that cry Thou dost all help ac­cord,
The an­gels’ ar­mor, and the saints’ re­ward.

Purest and high­est, wis­est and most just,
There is no truth, save on­ly in Thy trust;
Thou dost the mind from earth­ly dreams re­call,
And bring through to Christ to Him for whom are all.

Eternal glo­ry, all men Thee adore,
Who art and shalt be wor­shiped ev­er­more;
Us whom Thou mad­est, com­fort with Thy might,
And lead us to en­joy Thy heav­en­ly light.