Behold The Sun. (Air.--Lord Mornington.)

A poem by Thomas Moore

Behold the Sun, how bright
From yonder East he springs,
As if the soul of life and light
Were breathing from his wings.

So bright the Gospel broke
Upon the souls of men;
So fresh the dreaming world awoke
In Truth's full radiance then.

Before yon Sun arose,
Stars clustered thro' the sky--
But oh how dim, how pale were those,
To His one burning eye!

So Truth lent many a ray,
To bless the Pagan's night--
But, Lord, how weak, how cold were they
To Thy One glorious Light!

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