O You Creator of bright constellations,
Of heaven and earth; You on the high-seat
Eternal reign and the round heaven
All swiftly move, and through Your holy might
The lights of heaven make to hear You,
Even as the sun scatters darkness
Of the dark night time through Your strong power,
And with her pale beams the bright stars
The moon does humble, through Your might's moving;
At whiles too she robs the radiant sun
Of his full light, when it befalls
That they come together by close compulsion.
So too the glorious star of morning,
That we by its other name star of evening
Often hear called, You constrain
To follow the way where the sun goes
Every year he must ever travel,
Fare before him. O Father, You send
Long days in summer with heat sultry;
To the winter also wondrous short days
Have You granted. To the trees You give
South-west breezes, when the black tempest
Sprung from the north-east had utterly stript them
Of every leaf with its loathly wind.
Behold, all creatures in the earth's compass
Obey Your hests; the same do they in heaven
With mind and main, save man only;
He oftenest works in despite of Your will.
Ah! You Eternal and You Almighty
Author and Ruler of all creation,
Pity the offspring of Your poor world,
Even this race of men, through Your mighty power.
Why, O God Eternal, grant You ever
That Fate at the will of wicked mortals
Should turn herself on earth so swiftly?
Often to the guiltless great harm she works.
The wicked are seated in worldly kingdoms
Upon their high-seats, trampling the holy
Under their feet; no man may find out
Why Fate falls so foully awry.
So also are hidden here in this world
In many a borough brightest virtues,
Whereas the sinful in every season
Treat most evilly all those others
That are more righteous, to rule more worthy.
False-faced guile long has gone
Wrapt up in wiles. Now here in the world
Oaths basely broken bring no scathe.
If You, O Chieftain, will not check Fate,
But suffer her in self-will to remain,
Then this do I know, that nations will doubt
Far over earth's fields, all but a few.
O my Sovereign, You that see
All worldly creatures, with eyes of kindness
Look on mortals, for they are moiling,
Battling here in the world's billows,
Poor folk of the earth; pity them therefore.