Song: At the Lighting of the Lamps

Gracious Lord, Creator of the golden light,
You establish the patterns of revolving time,
And as the sun now sets, the gloom of night advances in.
For all your faithful, Christ, restore the light.

You have arrayed your heavenly court
With all the countless stars, setting the moon there as a lamp,
Yet still have shown us how to seek
Those lights whose seeds spring out whenever stony flint is struck.

This was to teach mankind its hope,
That light bestowed on us when Christ came with his own flesh.
For as he said, he is that steadfast rock,
From which a fire sprang forth to all our race.

This tiny flame we nurse in lamps
Brimming with rich and fragrant oil,
Or on the dry timber or the torch, or on the rushlights we have made,
Steeped in wax pressed from the comb.

The flickering light grows strong, as the hollow earthware lamp
Yields up its richness to the thirsty wick,
As the pine branch drips its nourishing sap,
And the fire drinks the warmth of waxen tapers down.

Drop by drop in perfumed tears
The glowing liquid nectar falls.
It is by your own gifts, Father,
Our halls gleam now with dancing lights that strive to emulate departed day,
While conquered night withdraws in flight,
Rending her dark cloak as she goes.

Gracious Lord, Creator of the golden light,
You establish the patterns of revolving time,
And as the sun now sets, the gloom of night advances in.
For all your faithful, Christ, restore the light.


Adapted from Prudentius, 5th Century