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Hymns
St Ambrose of Milan, tr. Copeland, 1848
Chapter 28
The Seventh Day. At Lauds.
The dawn is dappling o’er the sky,
The day o’er earth steals on;
Light shakes his flickering shaft on high;
Each breath of ill be gone.
Each shape of night be put to flight,
Guilt’s spell dissolve away,
Each spectre sin black night brought in
Fleet in the morning’s ray!
So may this morn, the last we bend
Here prostrate in God’s sight,
Born in this burst of music, end
In calm still flow of light.
Father, to Thee all glory be,
And Thee, Co-equal Son,
And Spirit Blest, with Both confest,
Eternal Three in One.