Now that the burning sun has gone,
Our hearts illumine from above.
Thee, in the morn with songs of praise,
Thee, at the evening time, we seek;
Thee, through all ages we adore,
And, suppliant of thy love, we speak.
To God the Father be the praise,
And to his sole-begotten Son,
And to the Blessed Comforter,
Both now and while all time shall run.