The Wingèd Herald of the Day

The wing­èd her­ald of the day

Proclaims the morn’s ap­proach­ing ray:

And Christ the Lord our souls ex­cites

And so to end­less life in­vites.

Take up thy bed

to each He cries

Who sick or wrapped in slum­ber lies;

And chaste and just and so­ber stand

And watch: My com­ing is at hand.

With ear­nest cry

with tear­ful care

Call we the Lord to hear our pray­er;

While sup­pli­ca­tion

pure and deep

Forbids each chast­ened heart to sleep.

Do Thou

O Christ

our slum­ber wake:

Do Thou the chains of dark­ness break;

Purge Thou our for­mer sins away

And in our souls new light dis­play.

All laud to God the Fa­ther be

All praise

eter­nal Son

to Thee;

All glo­ry

as is ev­er meet

To God the ho­ly Pa­ra­clete.