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J. Beaumont

What's this Morn's bright eye to me,

If I see not Thine and Thee,

Fairer JESU; in whose Face

All my Heaven is spread!--Alas,

Still I grovel in dead Night,

Whilst I want Thy living Light;


Dreaming with wide open eyes

Fond fantastic vanities.

Shine, my only Day-Star, shine:

So mine eyes shall wake by Thine;

So the dreams I grope-in now

To clear visions all shall grow;

So my day shall measured be

By Thy Grace's clarity167167clarity, clear light;

So shall I discern the Path

Thy sweet Law prescribéd hath;

For Thy ways cannot be shown

By any light but by Thine own.

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