128. Matins—Thursday
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{220}
Nox atra rerum contegit. |
ALL tender lights, all hues divine |
| The night has swept away; |
| Shine on us, Lord, and we shall shine |
| Bright in an inward day. |
The spots of guilt, sin's wages base, |
| Searcher of hearts, we own; |
| Wash us and robe us in Thy grace, |
| Who didst for sins atone. |
The sluggard soul, that bears their mark, |
| Shrinks in its silent lair, |
| Or gropes amid its chambers dark |
| For Thee, who art not there. {221} |
Redeemer! send Thy piercing rays, |
| That we may bear to be |
| Set in the light of Thy pure gaze, |
| And yet rejoice in Thee. |
Grant this, O Father, etc. |