Down to the ground they fall, and vain

Has been their strong endeavour.

Dear Father! therefore, who the crown

And sceptre bear'st on Heav'n's throne,

Who from the clouds dost lighten,

Regard my words, and hear my cry,

From Thy seat my soul brighten!

Vouchsafe to me the noble light

That from Thy countenance so bright

On pious souls aye breaketh,