125. Matins—Monday
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{215}
Somno refectis artubus. |
SLEEP has refresh'd our limbs, we spring |
| From off our bed, and rise; |
| Lord, on Thy suppliants, while they sing, |
| Look with a Father's eyes. |
Be Thou the first on every tongue, |
| The first in every heart; |
| That at all our doings all day long, |
| Holiest! from Thee may start. |
Cleanse Thou the gloom, and bid the light |
| Its healing beams renew; |
| The sins, which have crept in with night, |
| With night shall vanish too. {216} |
Our bosoms, Lord, unburthen Thou, |
| Let nothing there offend; |
| That those who hymn Thy praises now |
| May hymn them to the end. |
Grant this, O Father, Only Son, |
| And Spirit, God of grace, |
| To whom all worship shall be done |
| In every time and place. |