Chapter_147

5 0 00

Haunting gloom and flitting shades,

Ghastly shapes, away!

Christ is rising, and pervades

Highest Heaven with day.

He with His bright spear the night

Dazzles and pursues;

Earth wakes up, and glows with light

Of a thousand hues.

Thee, O Christ, and Thee alone,

With a single mind,

We with chant and plaint would own:

To Thy flock be kind.

Much it needs Thy light divine,

Spot and stain to clean;

Light of Angels, on us shine

With Thy face serene.

To the Father, and the Son,

And the Holy Ghost,

Here be glory, as is done

By the angelic host.