O splen­dor of God’s glo­ry bright,
O Thou that bring­est light from light;
O Light of light, light’s liv­ing spring,
O day, all days il­lum­in­ing.

O Thou true Sun, on us Thy glance
Let fall in roy­al ra­di­ance;
The Spi­rit’s sanc­ti­fy­ing beam
Upon our earth­ly sens­es stream.

The Fa­ther, too, our pray­ers im­plore,
Father of glo­ry ev­er­more;
The Fa­ther of all grace and might,
To ban­ish sin from our de­light.

To guide what­e’er we nob­ly do,
With love all en­vy to sub­due;
To make ill for­tune turn to fair,
And give us grace our wrongs to bear.

Our mind be in His keep­ing placed
Our bo­dy true to Him and chaste,
Where on­ly faith her fire shall feed,
To burn the tares of Sa­tan’s seed.

And Christ to us for food shall be,
From Him our drink that well­eth free,
The Spi­rit’s wine, that mak­eth whole,
And, mock­ing not, ex­alts the soul.

Rejoicing may this day go hence;
Like vir­gin dawn our in­no­cence,
Like fie­ry noon our faith ap­pear,
Nor known the gloom of twi­light drear.

Morn in her ro­sy car is borne;
Let Him come forth our per­fect morn,
The Word in God the Fa­ther one,
The Fa­ther per­fect in the Son.

All laud to God the Fa­ther be;
All praise, eter­nal Son, to Thee;
All glo­ry, as is ev­er meet,
To God the ho­ly Pa­ra­clete.