6,6,6,6,8,8
Chit?na moi paraschou photeinon
God, Thou art clothed with light,
As with a garment fair;
And, in Thy holy sight,
The saints Thy beauty wear;
The heavens, and all therein, express
The glory of Thy holiness.
Give me a robe of light
That I may walk with Thee;
Bright as the stars are bright,
Pure as their purity;
Whose texture sin shall never stain,
But undefiled for aye remain.
But can a sinner dare,
In rags, and sore ashamed,
Lift to his God the prayer
Which now my lips have framed,
While glowing seraphs fold their wings,
And pour their sinless offerings?
O Christ, I lift mine eyes;
Thy love for me I own;
In Thy great sacrifice
Abides my hope alone;
The robe is mine, my soul to dress,
Of everlasting righteousness.