Scripture Verse

The appearance of His face changed, and His clothes became bright as a flash of lightning. Luke 9:29–31


Robert S. Bridges (1844–1930)

Words: Am­brose of Mi­lan, 4th Cen­tu­ry (Splen­dor pa­ter­nae glo­ri­ae). Trans­lat­ed from La­tin to Eng­lish by Ro­bert S. Bridg­es, 1899, & John M. Neale.

Music: Ware­ham Will­iam Knapp, 1738 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

William Knapp (1698–1768)


O splen­dor of God’s glo­ry bright,
O Thou that bring­est light from light;
O Light of light, light’s liv­ing spring,
O day, all days il­lum­in­ing.

O Thou true Sun, on us Thy glance
Let fall in roy­al ra­di­ance;
The Spir­it’s sanc­ti­fy­ing beam
Upon our earth­ly sens­es stream.

The Fa­ther, too, our pray­ers im­plore,
Father of glo­ry ev­er­more;
The Fa­ther of all grace and might,
To ban­ish sin from our de­light.

To guide what­e’er we nob­ly do,
With love all en­vy to sub­due;
To make ill for­tune turn to fair,
And give us grace our wrongs to bear.

Our mind be in His keep­ing placed
Our bo­dy true to Him and chaste,
Where on­ly faith her fire shall feed,
To burn the tares of Sa­tan’s seed.

And Christ to us for food shall be,
From Him our drink that well­eth free,
The Spir­it’s wine, that mak­eth whole,
And, mock­ing not, ex­alts the soul.

Rejoicing may this day go hence;
Like vir­gin dawn our in­no­cence,
Like fie­ry noon our faith ap­pear,
Nor known the gloom of twi­light drear.

Morn in her ro­sy car is borne;
Let Him come forth our per­fect morn,
The Word in God the Fa­ther one,
The Fa­ther per­fect in the Son.

All laud to God the Fa­ther be;
All praise, eter­nal Son, to Thee;
All glo­ry, as is ev­er meet,
To God the ho­ly Pa­ra­clete.

Another translation, by Lou­is F. Ben­son, 1910:

O splen­dor of God’s glo­ry bright,
From light eter­nal bring­ing light,
Thou light of light, light’s liv­ing spring,
True day, all days il­lum­in­ing.

Come, ve­ry sun of Hea­ven’s love,
In last­ing ra­di­ance from above,
And pour the Ho­ly Spir­it’s ray
On all we think or do to­day.

And now to Thee our pray­ers as­cend,
O Fa­ther glo­ri­ous with­out end;
We plead with so­ver­eign Grace for pow’r
To con­quer in temp­ta­tion’s hour.

Confirm our will to do the right,
And keep our hearts from en­vy’s blight;
Let faith her ea­ger fires re­new,
And hate the false, and love the true.

O joy­ful be the pass­ing day
With thoughts as pure as morn­ing’s ray,
With faith like noon­tide shin­ing bright,
Our souls un­sha­dowed by the night.

Dawn’s glo­ry gilds the earth and skies,
Let Him, our per­fect Morn, arise,
The Word in God the Fa­ther one,
The Fa­ther im­aged by the Son.