Thou light of Gen­tile na­tions,
Thou Sav­ior from above,
Drawn by Thy Spir­it’s lead­ing,
We come with joy and love
Into Thy holy tem­ple
And wait with ear­nest mind
As Si­me­on once had wait­ed
His God and Lord to find.

Yea, Lord, Thy ser­vants meet Thee
In ev­ery ho­ly place
Where Thy true Word has pro­mised
That we should see Thy face.
Today Thou still dost grant us
Who ga­ther around Thee here
In arms of faith to bear Thee
As did that ag­èd seer.

Be Thou our joy and bright­ness,
Our cheer in pain and loss,
Our sun in dark­est ter­ror,
The glo­ry round our cross,
A star for sink­ing spir­its,
A bea­con in dis­tress,
Physician, friend in sickness,
In death our hap­pi­ness.

Let us, O Lord, be faith­ful
Like Si­me­on to the end,
So that his pray­er ex­ult­ant
May from our hearts as­cend:
O Lord, now let Thy servant
Depart in peace, I pray,
Since I have seen my Sav­ior
And here beheld His day.

My Sav­ior, I behold Thee
With faith’s en­light­ened eye;
Of Thee no foe can rob me,
His threats I can de­fy.
Within Thy heart abid­ing,
As Thou, O Lord, in me,
Death can no long­er fright­en
Nor part my soul from Thee.

Lord, here on earth Thou seem­est
At times to frown on me,
And through my tears I oft­en
Can scarce dis­ting­uish Thee;
But in the heav’n­ly man­sions
Shall no­thing dim my sight;
There shall I see Thy glo­ry
In ne­ver-chang­ing light.