Now that the sun is gleam­ing bright,
Implore we, bend­ing low,
That He, the un­cre­at­ed Light
May guide us as we go.

No sin­ful word, nor deed of wrong
Nor thoughts that id­ly rove,
But sim­ple truth be on our tongue,
And in our hearts be love.

And while the hours in or­der flow,
O Christ, se­cure­ly fence
Our gates, be­lea­guered by the foe,
The gate of ev­ery sense.

And grant that to Thine hon­or, Lord,
Our dai­ly toil may tend;
That we be­gin it at Thy Word,
And in Thy fa­vor end.