tr., John Brownlie

I

The saffron tints appear,

The morning comes -- 'tis here.

Wipe slumber from thine eyes,

Behold the sun arise!

II

Clad in his garb of gold,

Bright as he shone of old;

Beams o'er the heavens extend,

Shafts from his orb descend.

III

Sun, that in morning light

Rises, nor sinks in night,

Shine in my soul alway,

Make there an endless day.

IV

Life for my deadness give;

Shine, that my soul may live;

Joy to my sorrow bring;

Light on Thy glowing wing.

V

If 'neath the cloud I lie,

Darkness obscure my sky;

Yet, may my faith behold

Glints of the hidden gold.

VI

Father, to Thee, always,

And Holy Ghost, be praise;

Glory, while ages run,

To Thee, O Christ! our Sun.