tr., John Brownlie
autos phos ei pagaion
Cento from Humnomen kouron numphas
In the Father's glory shining,
Jesus, Light of light art Thou;
Sordid night before Thee fleeth, --
On our souls Thou'rt falling now.
Framer of the world, we hail Thee!
Thou didst mould the stars of night;
Earth to life Thou dost awaken,
Saviour Thou, of glorious might!
'Tis Thy hand that guides the chariot
When the sun illumes the skies,
And the dark of night relaxes
When Thou bidst the moon arise.
At Thy word the harvest ripens,
Flocks and herds their pasture find;
Earth gives bread to feed the hungry,
For the hand of God is kind.
May my soul, her want perceiving,
Turn her gaze to where Thou art,
And in all Thy fulness find Thee
Food to satisfy the heart.