Words: Fried­rich Ru­dolf Lud­wig Frei­herr von Can­itz, 1700 (Seele du musst mun­ter wer­den); trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by , 1838. Dr. Arnold says of von Canitz:

Some may know the story of that German nobleman whose life had been dis­tin­guished alike by gen­i­us and world­ly dis­tinct­ion, and by Christian hol­i­ness; and who, in the last morn­ing of his life, when the dawn broke into his sick cham­ber, prayed that he might be sup­port­ed to the win­dow, and might look once again upon the ris­ing sun. Af­ter look­ing stead­i­ly at it for some time, he cried out, “Oh! if the ap­pear­ance of this earth­ly and cre­at­ed thing is so beau­ti­ful and quick­en­ing, how much more shall I be en­rap­tured at the sight of the un­speak­a­ble glo­ry of the Cre­a­tor Him­self.” That was the feel­ing of a man whose sense of earth­ly beau­ty had all the keen­ness of a poet’s en­thu­si­asm, but who, with­al, had in his great­est health and vig­our pre­served the con­scious­ness that his life was hid with Christ in God; that the things seen, how beau­ti­ful soever, were as no­thing to the things which are not seen.

trans­lat­ed von Can­itz’ lyr­ics as “Come My Soul, Awake, ’Tis Morning,” in her Lyra Germanica, 1855. Yet ano­ther trans­la­tion ap­peared in the British Mag­a­zine, July 1838.

Music: Haydn, ar­ranged from , 1791. Al­ter­nate tune:

  • Lux Pri­ma (Stain­er), , 1872

Come, my soul, thou must be waking;
Now is breaking over the earth another day;
Come to Him Who made this splendor;
See thou render all thy feeble powers can pay.

Thou, too, hail the light returning
Ready burning be the incense of thy powers;
For the night is safely ended,
God hath tended with His care thy helpless hours.

Pray that He may prosper ever
Each endeavor when thine aim is good and true;
But that He may ever thwart thee,
And convert thee, when thou evil wouldst pursue.

Think that He thy ways beholdeth;
He unfoldeth every fault that lurks within;
He the hidden shame glossed over
Can discover, and discern each deed of sin.

Mayest thou on life’s last morrow,
Free from sorrow, pass away in slumber sweet:
And, released from death’s dark sadness,
Rise in gladness that far brighter Sun to greet.

Only God’s free gifts abuse not,
Light refuse not, but His Spirit’s voice obey;
Thou with Him shalt dwell, beholding
Light enfolding all things in unclouded day.