Cœli Deus sanctissime.
O Lord, who, thron’d in the holy height,
Through plains of ether didst diffuse
The dazzling beams of light,
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,
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;
Clear, Lord, the brooding night within,
And clean these hearts for Thy abode,
Unlock the spell of sin,
Crumble its giant load.
Grant it, O Father, Only Son,
And Holy Spirit, God of grace,
To whom all praise be done
In every time and place.