Thou express image of the One most high,
The God of gods—of matchless purity—
What refuge like to thee can we e’er find?
Check us when led by Passion’s voice astray;
Each idle wish, rude thought, do thou control;
And fling thy golden radiance o’er the soul;
That “more and more unto the perfect day,”
It brightly still may shine—lit up by thee,
A thing sublime—undimmed throughout eternity.