145. Vespers—Tuesday
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Telluris alme conditor. |
ALL-BOUNTIFUL Creator, who, |
| When Thou didst mould the world, didst
drain |
| The waters from the mass, that so |
| Earth might immovable remain; |
That its dull clods it might transmute |
| To golden flowers in vale or wood, |
| To juice of thirst allaying fruit, |
| And grateful herbage spread for food; |
Wash Thou our smarting wounds and hot, |
| In the cool freshness of Thy grace; |
| Till tears start forth the past to blot, |
| And cleanse and calm Thy holy place; {253} |
Till we obey Thy full behest, |
| Shun the world's tainted touch and breath, |
| Joy in what highest is and best. |
| And gain a spell to baffle death. |
Grant it, O Father, Only Son, |
| And Holy Spirit, God of grace; |
| To whom all glory, Three in One, |
| Be given in every time and place. |