1 Christ, whose glory fills the skies,
Christ the true, the only light,
sun of righteousness, arise,
triumph over shades of night;
dayspring from on high, be near;
day-star, in my heart appear.

2 Dark and cheerless is the morn
if you seem not close to me;
joyless is the day's return,
till your mercy's beams I see,
till they inward light impart,
glad my eyes, and warm my heart.

3 Visit then this soul of mine;
pierce the gloom of sin and grief;
fill me, radiancy divine;
scatter all my unbelief;
more and more yourself display,
shining to the perfect day.