When Morning Gilds the Skies

When morning gilds the skies,
my heart awaking cries:
May Jesus Christ be praised.
Alike at work and prayer
to Jesus I repair:
May Jesus Christ be praised.

When sleep her balm denies,
my silent spirit sighs:
May Jesus Christ be praised.
When evil thoughts molest,
with this I shield my breast:
May Jesus Christ be praised.

Does sadness fill my mind?
A solace here I find:
May Jesus Christ be praised.
Or fades my earthly bliss?
My comfort still is this:
May Jesus Christ be praised.

In heav'n's eternal bliss
the loveliest strain is this:
May Jesus Christ be praised.
The pow'rs of darkness fear,
when this sweet chant they hear:
May Jesus Christ be praised.

Let earth's wide circle round
in joyful notes resound:
May Jesus Christ be praised.
Let air and sea and sky,
from depth to height, reply:
May Jesus Christ be praised.

Be this, while life is mine,
my canticle divine:
May Jesus Christ be praised.
Be this th'eternal song,
through all the ages on:
May Jesus Christ be praised.