Matins—Monday

Sleep has refresh’d our limbs, we spring From off our bed, and rise; Lord, on Thy suppliants, while they sing, Look with a Father’s eyes.

Be Thou the first on every tongue, The first in every heart; That at all our doings all day long, Holiest! from Thee may start.

Cleanse Thou the gloom, and bid the light Its healing beams renew; The sins, which have crept in with night, With night shall vanish too.

Our bosoms, Lord, unburthen Thou, Let nothing there offend; That those who hymn Thy praises now May hymn them to the end.

Grant this, O Father, Only Son, And Spirit, God of grace, To whom all worship shall be done In every time and place.