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.