Morn or morns and day of days,
Beauteous were thy new-born rays
Brighter yet from death's dark pris'n
Christ, the light of light, is ris'n.

He commanded, and His Word
Death and the dread chaos heard;
Oh, shall we, more deaf than they
In the chains of darkness stay?

Nature yet in shadow lies;
Let the sons of light arise,
And present the morning rays
With sweet canticles of praise.

While the dead world sleeps around,
Let the sacred temples sound
Law, and prophet, and blest psalm
Lit with holy light so calm.

Unto hearts in slumber weak
Let the heav'nly trumpet speak
And a newer walk express
Their new life to righteousness.

Grant us this, and with us be,
O Thou Fount of charity,
Thou who dost the Spirit give,
Bidding the dead letter live.

Glory to the Father, Son,
And to Thee, O Holy One,
By Whose quick'ning breath divine
Our dull spirits burn and shine.