Awake, my soul! Awake, mine eyes!
Awake, my drowsy faculties;
Awake, and see the new-born light
Spring from the darksome womb of Night!
Look up and see th' unwearied Sun,
Already hath his race begun:
The pretty lark is mounted high,
And sings her matins in the sky.
Arise, my soul! and thou my voice
10In songs of praise, early rejoice!