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8,7,8,7

I

Light upon our gloom arising,

Herald of the perfect day;

Night, and all its powers despising,

Hail we now Thy glorious ray.

From the home of light excelling,

Comes He forth in raiment bright,

Stealing to the noisome dwelling

Of the denizen of night.

To the hopeless, bound and sighing,

Held in darkness as a snare,

Comes He forth, their bands untying,

Giving hope for gaunt despair.

To the faithless, faint and failing,

Leaning on a staff that breaks,--

Kindling lights all unavailing,--

Lo, the Light of lights awakes.

To the fearful heart in sorrow,

Tossed upon a troubled sea,

Comes that Light as on the morrow

When He walked on Galilee.

16

Lord of life, on Thee depending,

Would we lift our eyes to Thee;

From the bliss of Heaven descending,

Come, our souls from dying free.

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