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87

ἠν τὸ φῶς τὸ ἀληθινὸν

7,8,7,8,7,7

88

I

When the morn comes o’er the hills

Bringing life, and light, and gladness,

Scattering our night-born ills,

Banishing our fear and sadness;

Christ of God, Thou Light of light,

Banish then our inward night.

II

Ah! our spirits pine and die

In the chill of night that binds us;

And we cannot see Thee nigh

For the dark that inly blinds us;

Morning Star, in beauty shine,

Let us see Thy light benign.

III

On our minds Thy peace bestow,

Let no cruel blast distress us,

Ever onward as we go,

May no crushing load oppress us;

Light of light, when night is near,

Give Thy peace, and banish fear.

IV

When the noontide all ablaze

Fills the heaven with light supernal,

And we dwell with glad amaze

In the bliss of the Eternal;

Light that cheered my life below,

Still Thy joy and peace bestow.

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