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95

IV

6,6,6,6,8,8

Χιτϖνα μοι παρασχου φωτεινον

God, Thou art clothed with light,

As with a garment fair;

And, in Thy holy sight,

The saints Thy beauty wear;

The heavens, and all therein, express

The glory of Thy holiness.

Give me a robe of light

That I may walk with Thee;

Bright as the stars are bright,

Pure as their purity;

Whose texture sin shall never stain,

But undefiled for aye remain.

But can a sinner dare,

In rags, and sore ashamed,

Lift to his God the prayer

Which now my lips have framed,

While glowing seraphs fold their wings,

And pour their sinless offerings?

O Christ, I lift mine eyes;

Thy love for me I own;

In Thy great sacrifice

Abides my hope alone;

The robe is mine, my soul to dress,

Of everlasting righteousness.

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