The morn awakes; from eastern hills

The morn awakes; from eastern hills
The golden light creation fills;
And arrows chase the night that flies
Before the ever-brightening skies.

The morn awakes; up, soul of mine!
And, like the morn, in beauty shine;
Strong, as the high-ascending sun,
Thy race of duty boldly run.

Night for the weary comes at length;
Morn gives the soul the needed strength;
Light shall thy path encircling, cheer,
And melt each lingering cloud of fear.

O Light of lights, when night descends,
And brooding fear my life attends,
Show to my soul, that night departs
When morning trims her glowing darts.

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O Christ, who art my better Sun,
Bright shines the day with Thee begun;
No terror can the mind oppress,
Nor cloud th' aspiring soul distress.

To Thee, O glorious Light of light,
Be honour paid when morn is bright;
To Father, and to Spirit blest,
Be glory every day exprest.