For gladness fills my soul.

ἠν τὸ φῶς τὸ ἀληθινὸν

I

When the morn comes o’er the hills

Bringing life, and light, and gladness,

Scattering our night-born ills,

Banishing our fear and sadness;

Christ of God, Thou Light of light,

Banish then our inward night.

II