146. Vespers—Wednesday
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{254}
Cœli Deus sanctissime. |
O LORD, who, thron'd in the holy height, |
| Through plains of ether didst diffuse |
| The dazzling beams
of light, |
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In soft transparent hues; |
Who didst, on the fourth day, in heaven |
| Light the fierce cresset of the sun, |
| And the meek moon
at even, |
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And stars that wildly run; |
That they might mark and arbitrate |
| 'Twixt alternating night and day, |
| And tend the train
sedate |
|
Of months upon their way; {255} |
Clear, Lord, the brooding night within, |
| And clean these hearts for Thy abode, |
| Unlock the spell of
sin, |
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Crumble its giant load. |
Grant it, O Father, Only Son, |
| And Holy Spirit, God of grace, |
| To whom all praise
be done |
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In every time and place. |