Thou Plenteous Source of Light and Love

Thou plen­te­ous source of light and love

From whom all grace pro­ceeds

Chase from our souls the gloom of night

And make us hate its deeds:

In ar­mor clad of heav­en­ly proof

We will not fear or fly

But brave­ly through op­pos­ing hosts

Press on­ward to the sky.

If long and doubt­ful seem the strife

Our pains and tri­als sore

Such are the ills of mor­tal life

And such our Sav­ior bore:

Once

hum­bled from His lof­ty throne

He dwelt in weak­ness here

And His has been the strug­gling sigh

And His the fall­ing tear.

When time has run its des­tined course

And all our years are fled

He comes

with mon­arch’s pomp and pow­er

To wake and judge the dead:

Then help us

Lord

while sin­ners’ hearts

Shall sicken with dis­may

To lift our heads

and joy­ful hail

Redemption’s per­fect day.