1 O day full of grace, which we behold,
Now gently to view ascending;
Thou over the earth thy reign unfold,
Good cheer to all mortals lending,
That children of light in ev'ry clime
May prove that the night is ending.

2 How blest was that gracious midnight hour,
When God in our flesh was given;
Then flushéd the dawn with light and power,
That spread o'er the darkened heaven;
Then rose o'er the world that Sun divine
Which gloom from our hearts had driven.

3 Yea, were ev'ry tree endowed with speech,
And every leaflet singing,
They never with praise His worth could reach,
Though earth with their praise were ringing.
Who fully could praise the Light of life,
Who light to our souls is bringing?

4 As birds in the morning sing God's praise,
His fatherly love we cherish,
For giving to us this day of grace,
For life that shall never perish;
His church He hath kept these thousand years,
And hungering souls did nourish.

5 Pass on thy close, O Whit-Sunday,
With sunlight about thee beaming,
And scatter thy blessings on thy way,
As brooks through the meadows streaming
E'er leave in their wake the woods and fields
In beauty and fruitfulness dreaming.

6 With joy we depart for our Fatherland,
Where God our Father is dwelling,
Where ready for us His mansions stand,
Where heaven with praise is swelling;
And there we shall walk in endless light,
With blest ones His praise forth telling.