As the mist scatters

Thanks to Thee, O God, that I have risen to-day
To the rising of this life itself;
May it be to Thine own glory,
O God of every gift,
And to the glory of my soul likewise.

O Great God, aid Thou my soul with the aiding of Thine own mercy,
Even as I clothe my body with wool,
Cover Thou my soul with the shadow of Thy wing.
Help me to avoid every sin,
and the source of every sin to forsake;
And as the mist scatters on the crest of the hills,
may each ill haze clear from my soul, O God.

 

From Celtic Prayers.  Selected by Avery Brooke from the collection of Alexander Carmichael,with calligraphy by Laurel CasazzaSeabury Press, 1981

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